Sex & Mayhem 01 Road of No Return (9 page)

“Oh, yeah? So you want me to go?” Stitch grinned and pulled his fingers out in a languid move, never looking away from Zak’s eyes.

“Not really. You’re my favorite intruder after all,” whispered Zak as if he were sharing a secret.

“I’m gonna intrude whenever I want then.” Stitch grinned and put a condom over his dick. It was already all too eager to push into that hot tightness.

With this masculine body spread over the table, ready to submit to his cock, Stitch could hardly focus on anything else than Zak’s handsome face, and the incredibly sexy body covered by demonic creatures. The pulsing in Stitch’s head made him oblivious to anything else when Zak opened his mouth.

“Fuck me.”

Zak didn’t have to ask twice. Stitch aligned his dick with the slippery hole and pushed in without waiting any longer. He put his palms on the table by Zak’s sides and kissed him again, ready to explore that hot mouth as he thrust his dick inside. God, he wouldn’t last long with a guy like this.

Zak stirred against him, growling into the kiss but didn’t try to push him away. Instead, the long, inked legs pulled him closer, settling over his ass. Another pair of strong, patterned limbs curled around his neck, keeping him in place for the deep kiss that made them both tremble and gasp. It was nothing like kissing Crystal. There was a slight stubble to Zak’s skin, and as he pushed his tongue deep into Stitch’s mouth, stroking his, plundering every sensitive crevice, Stitch’s cock became even harder where it was lodged in the sweet hole between Zak’s buttocks.

Stitch slid one of his hands to Zak’s cock with more courage than the night before. He had to remind himself that he was the conqueror, taking what he wanted, not some deviant who wants to touch guys’ dicks. He pushed in farther, thrusting his shaft into the tight heat. It was so unbelievably good. Like having all his troubles melt away like fat off bacon. It was just him, Zak, and a fast rhythm of thrusts and grunts as he jerked Zak off at the same pace.

They were going at it hard and fast in no time, and he couldn’t unglue his eyes from Zak’s flushed face and glossy eyes. The guy was even pulling in Stitch’s hips to make him thrust into him harder, gasping and groaning in the rhythm of the wooden table slamming against the wall. Zak’s sweat smelled so good it could be the basis of some pheromone perfume, an aphrodisiac to lure Stitch in.

When Stitch came, it was as if his dick was getting hugged by that tight channel. He groaned into Zak’s lips and licked the sweat off his cheek. He never stopped stroking Zak’s cock as he was making his last thrusts, imagining there was no rubber barrier between them, that he would cream him, mark him with his own come.

Zak gave a breathless moan and came right after, his spunk spilling all over Stitch’s hand, warm and sticky. Its smell tickled something deep in Stitch, but instead of pondering on that, he leaned in and kissed the trembling mouth.

“Ohh, fuck,” whispered Zak as his legs slowly relaxed around Stitch’s hips. With his eyes half-lidded, he seemed like someone who’d love to just cuddle into the covers and fall asleep after the most mind-blowing fuck of their life.

Stitch grinned at him, ignoring the fact that he wasn’t sure what to do with his hand. “I’m not ‘trouble’ after all, am I?” He kissed Zak’s lips once more before straightening up.

Zak dragged his hands down his face, his chest still working hard. “Why did I even bother putting on clothes. I knew this would happen, you pest.”

“You didn’t, you only had briefs on. Afraid oil would spill over your junk?” Stitch chuckled and pulled off the condom, his gaze drawn to Zak’s slippery buttocks.

“My junk’s priceless to me,” whimpered Zak, not even bothering to get decent. He had this self-satisfied smirk firmly in place.

Stitch looked up at the puppy-shaped clock on the wall as he zipped up his pants. “I don’t have time for breakfast anymore, but it was worth it.”

Zak nodded and started smearing the string of spunk on his stomach all over the skin. “See? You’re trouble. But Versailles will thank you for the cooked breakfast.”

“Versay had a chunk of my calf yesterday, so he should be fine.” He couldn’t take his eyes off Zak. How the fuck was he supposed to get back to reality now?

“I bet he’ll like you better than anyone else now that he knows how you taste.” Zak lazily slid off the table and reached for the food.

Stitch buckled up his belt and gave Zak’s ass a pat. “Just like you.”

“I want your number,” said Zak, nodding at the stationery drawer.

Stitch smirked. “Not enough that I have yours?”

“No.” Zak shrugged. “What if I’m in dire need of protein?”

Stitch chuckled and got himself a piece of paper. “You’re so freaking shameless. Come round to our bar sometime. I bet the guys would like to meet a talented tattoo artist,” he said as he wrote down the number. It would be nice to see Zak around. Even if he wouldn’t be able to touch him.

He didn’t know how things would develop with this guy, but he knew that by the end of this week, he would fuck him again.

“And Stitch, I scratch your back, you scratch mine, yeah?” Zak raised his eyebrows and packed his mouth full of egg.

Stitch blinked, unsure what to say. “Huh?” Was this Zak’s way of saying he wanted to fuck him as well? He clenched his buttocks reflexively and felt himself going pale.

Zak frowned. “You know, I don’t know how this club thing works. Give me tips, and no fag jokes, yeah?”

“Oh. Yeah, yeah, I’ll introduce you and stuff. But you’re not ‘out’ are you?” Stitch frowned. That wouldn’t go down well at all.

Zak bit off some of the crispy bacon. “I’m not boasting about it.”

“Yeah, so just… keep it quiet, and you’ll be fine.” Stitch hesitated, but leaned over to kiss Zak’s cheek and cupped the sides of his face as he smiled. “So fucking pretty.”

Zak kept his gaze but smiled in return. “I’m looking forward to it.”

“See you around then.” Stitch finally pulled away and walked out of the kitchen. He hadn’t felt so light in years.

Even Versay growling at him from beneath the living room table couldn’t spoil Stitch’s mood. He walked out into the sunny yard and went straight for his shiny black bike. He knew he’d think about Zak’s sleek body when he mounted his machine.

But just as he was looking to the window to check if his Pollyanna was there, gazing back, his cell phone rang, and it wasn’t Crystal.

“What’s up?” he asked Gator, their club president.

All he got was, “Get your ass to the clubhouse right now, we have a problem.”

The clubhouse was busier than a swarming ant colony. All the guys rushed around in pairs, carrying large appliances they had obtained from a major company’s warehouse a week ago. Obtained for free. Stitch and Captain were dragging a large side-by-side fridge up into the moving truck belonging to the club, which was normally used for their legal business. It had been hard to load those fresh, new babies when Hounds of Valhalla took them under their wings, but knowing there could be police officers knocking at their door any minute now made the process even more frantic.

“How the fuck did the police get a sniff of this?” Stitch grunted as they carried the fridge to the beat-up truck and passed it to Joe, who pushed the equipment to the back so that they had space for the other items being carried their way like cars taken by the flood. Televisions, game consoles, phones, all boxed up and fresh. Stuff that needed to be moved ASAP.

Gator passed them with a stack of boxes, sweat glistening on his bald, tattooed head. “Toby Flaren called me from the station. Rat left fingerprints. We need to move this shit in case Cox shows up, so you know who to thank for all this.”

“What a fucking idiot,” muttered Captain as they put the fridge on the floor inside the truck. He brushed the dust off his hands and jumped right off the trailer not to block the way for two more pairs of men carrying the remaining stock.

“Hey, Stitch, you drive!” Gator snapped his fingers in the air and stood on top of a few boxes, which made him look like a slave monger, men moving under his gaze as if they were carrying blocks to build a pyramid. Gator looked like no pharaoh though, all muscular and red on his pasty face. In moments like this Stitch really did believe the guy had wrestled an alligator once and broken its neck.

Stitch nodded but ran his fingers through his hair, watching more boxes pile up in the truck. “Where are we taking this shit? Where the fuck are we supposed to unload all of this?”

“I’ll arrange a space in Bayou Cane, I know some guys down there, but you need to be on the road.”

“Go!” Captain slapped his thigh and ran around the truck to get into the passenger seat.

“Are you sure we have everything?” Stitch slammed shut the back of the truck as soon as Gator jumped off. Neverending fucking problems. He’d rather be in the workshop, polishing a table.

“If one thing got overlooked, we’ll deal with it. Now go!” growled Gator and Stitch wasn’t about to argue with the club president. Gator gave the back of the truck a slap, as if it were a girl’s ass.

Stitch opened the driver’s door and hopped inside, where Captain was already going through a map. In the wing mirror, he could see the other guys rushing around like a swarm of bees preparing their nest for an attack of giant hornets. He bit his lip and started the truck, squeezing his hands on the steering wheel. Gator ran up to the gate and as he pressed the button, the white door started slowly rising. Inch by inch, it made its way up, all too slow for Stitch’s liking.

“Go northwest first,” said Captain, slipping a pair of shades on his nose.

The moment burning sunshine hit Stitch’s eyes, he knew it was time to put on sunglasses as well. It only took a few minutes to get out of town. Stitch made sure to choose a neighborhood where half of the houses stood empty so that as few people as possible would see them. He’d much prefer to be on his bike, not locked in a giant can that couldn’t go any faster, or even get off the road like a bike could.

“I’m gonna kill Rat when they let him out,” Stitch growled, completely focused on the asphalt road.

Captain shook his head. “With Gator’s new plans, the kid needs to get his shit straight or he’ll be out,” he said, patting his eye patch. “Go right.”

Stitch turned without question. “What new plans?” he hissed, but the issue became irrelevant the moment he saw Cox’s police car in the wing mirror. “Fuck! Call Gator. We need to lose this motherfucker.”

Captain dropped the map and looked into the other wing mirror, his chest expanding. “Sonofabitch!” He patted his thick fingers against the window, and glanced to Stitch, pulling out his cell phone. “Forget what I said, go left, pass by my house, yeah?”

Stitch gritted his teeth, but he had to trust that Captain had a plan. He hated being out of the loop, and his forehead was already so hot he could fry an egg on it. Not that he was good at frying eggs, as proven by the last fiasco. He nodded and took the first turn to the left and off the highway, just as Captain pushed his hand into Stitch’s front pocket, fishing out his phone as well. He wouldn’t assume Stitch had anything to hide from him.

“Melissa? Take the car now, we’ll be there in three minutes,” Captain told his old lady, watching Cox in the mirror, all tense. “Don’t ask stupid questions, just do it, you need to do something for me, baby.”

“I can see his whites! I can see his whites, he’s too fucking close!” Stitch was bristling up like a cornered bear. He stepped on the gas. “What are you doing with my phone?” He took a glance at Captain’s thick fingers fiddling with his smartphone. It was pretty pathetic. Captain’s phone was one of those old-people’s phones, with big numbers, but he did manage to open a new message and was now typing something addressed to Gator. Stitch needed to get a new phone for communicating with Zak, in case Zak decided to send him some dirty texts.

“Just drive and don’t keep him too far away from us when you turn into my street, yeah?” growled Captain just before returning to the conversation he was having with his woman.

Stitch stopped listening in and just pressed on the gas pedal, eager to expand the space between them and Cox while making sure not to break any traffic regulations. They could not give the fucker any excuses to stop them with a ton of stolen goods in the back of the truck.

This wasn’t what the plan was. They were supposed to acquire the electronics and get rid of them quickly. Bam! Profit. Instead, Stitch was sweating like a pig in this can of a vehicle. “What’s the fucking plan?” he urged Captain as they approached his house.

“Keep him on your tail and speed up as soon as you pass my yard,” growled Captain. He opened his mouth to say more but instead picked up the phone as soon as it buzzed. “Gator, we’re at mine, how much time do you need at the gas station?” He was bumping his fist into the dashboard like a living metronome.

Stitch could smell the tension in the air, mixed with the scent of a bonfire at a trailer park they’d passed. He wished
he
was roasting some fucking marshmallows instead of risking his freedom for a bunch of TVs and freezers. The bills weren’t gonna pay themselves though. He only wished Cox wouldn’t get some stupid ideas like trying to pass them or something. As soon as they reached Captain’s house, he stepped on the gas.

“Just don’t pass the limit,” Captain reminded him, practically glued to the window, and the sudden cackle he gave was the sign Stitch needed to take a glimpse of the wing mirror. His mouth curved into a smile when he saw Melissa’s car parked across the street, blocking Cox, who hit the horn before getting out of his car only to be joined by Melissa, who raised her hands in a gesture of helplessness. That was all he could see before they turned right.