Copping To It

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Copping to it

Copyright © 2010 by Ava Meyers

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All rights reserved. Without limiting the
rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication
may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system,
or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic,
mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the
prior written permission of the copyright owner.

This is a work of fiction. Names,
characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the
product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously.

License Notes

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Many thanks to Tina Folsom, Susan Hatler,
Karin Tabke, Cyndi, and Rochelle, for their critiques and
encouragement with this project!

Somehow, Claire Fullerton had managed to
perfect the appearance of being a “good girl.” No one, absolutely
no one, suspected what she feared most—that she was a bad girl to
the core. All they saw was the dutiful daughter and responsible
reporter who provided citizens with important information. They had
no clue she was a reckless hedonist who sought out life’s darker
elements for sheer vicarious thrills.

At least, they hadn’t until now.

“Let go of me!” Claire twisted and pulled,
straining to escape the bald man with overblown muscles and a long
jagged scar bisecting his right eyebrow. Her efforts were futile.
With ease, he pulled her out of the small abandoned trailer just on
the outskirts of Guardian property, which she’d been staking out
for the past two days. Her patent leather flats slid against the
pebbled dirt as he dragged her toward the dilapidated warehouse
that served as his gang’s headquarters.

“I told you I just took a wrong turn.” The
lie fell easily off her lips. Too easily. Even so, the man snorted,
the sound clearly emanating disbelief.

He shook his head. “Give it up, Fullerton.
We’re gonna teach you to mind your own business the Demon way.”

The statement should have had terror zipping
through her veins. She knew, after all, that the man — Jed Randall
— was the Demonic Guardians’ second-in-command and an ex-felon to
boot, one with a string of robberies behind him. Still, she could
admit — if only to herself — that what she felt wasn’t fear but
rather an odd sense of anticipation.

Despite the gang’s reputation for violence
and their prior threats against her, she knew they wouldn’t
really
harm her unless they got the green light from their
hardened leader. Thankfully, Brad Hoyt wasn’t here, and Claire felt
fairly confident Randall wasn’t the type to hurt a woman or let
others do it either. Not unless they had reason to…

From her hiding spot, Claire had watched
illicit drugs flow freely but she’d seen no evidence of violence by
the gang’s members. Their primary mission had been an unabashed
commitment to everything sensual and sexual. If it felt good, a
Guardian did it. As to whom he did it with? Well, plenty of women
had been shuttled on and off the property, and consent hadn’t once
seemed to be a problem. From what Claire had seen and heard, the
women had thoroughly enjoyed themselves, prompting her to feel more
than one pang of envy.

At no point, however, had she seen the one
man she’d wanted to see most. She’d fantasized about him though.
Remembered time and again the feel of his warm skin against hers.
She’d watched men and women getting it on, and she’d imagined her
and Ty in their place — or sometimes even joining in. As a result,
she’d been quivering with sexual excitement more times than not
over the weekend.

And apparently, getting caught by Randall
hadn’t changed that.

It didn’t matter that he’d probably be back
in prison before the year was out. Even the dominant way he held
her — firm and inescapable but painless — heightened the arousal
she’d felt while watching him have sex minutes earlier.

She told herself her response was to be
expected. That any woman would have trouble remembering a man’s
criminal history when she’d just observed him, naked ass clenching,
pumping into a woman and making her come so hard her legs had
buckled.

Even as she continued to struggle against
Randall’s grip, lingering excitement made her heart pound and her
breath jerk in and out of her in small, ragged pants. She
envisioned the way his large hands had stroked the brunette’s
breasts moments earlier. They’d been going at it against a tree,
the woman’s back pressed against his chest, his arms braced on
either side of the woman’s head as he’d hunched over her, his slick
length, eight inches long and as thick as Claire’s wrist, pounding
in and out of the woman while she’d mewled steadily. Both had
seemed oblivious to the other people milling around them, as well
as to Claire who’d been safely ensconced in her hiding place. Or so
she’d thought.

But then, as soon as the couple’s ragged
groans of pleasure had faded away, and with Claire biting her lip
to keep from echoing them, the man had gently lowered the woman to
the ground, jerked up his pants, and headed straight toward the
trailer where she hid. They’d obviously known she was there the
entire time because when he’d jerked open the door and pulled her
out, the brunette had smirked and waved at her.

Now Randall led her inside the Guardian
compound, into the one place she knew next to nothing about despite
her previous attempts to get inside. It was disappointingly
ordinary, but she couldn’t say the same for its occupants. Through
a series of open doors, she caught glimpses of bodies, some naked,
others not. The smell of sex permeated the air, evidence of the
debauchery that occurred at least once a year when the Demon
Guardians initiated a select few into their merry band of
criminals.

She couldn’t have known for sure where he
was taking her, yet somehow she did — especially when they passed
the broad-shouldered man who leaned idly against a doorjamb. She
recognized his spiked blond buzz cut immediately. Much taller than
Randall, and far more ripped than bulky, he was dressed simply in
faded jeans and an open unbuttoned shirt with the sleeves rolled
up, revealing sinewy forearms. Although he locked gazes with her,
not a hint of recognition showed on his face. In fact, if she
didn’t know better, she might have actually wondered if she’d made
a mistake. She’d only met the man once, after all….

But she did know better. She knew who he
was. He was Luke Anderson, and he hadn’t come here alone.

With her body tightening even more with
dread and anticipation, Randall dragged her into a room crowded
with men and a few women. No one noticed her.

Not. A. One.

Instead, while the men or women fondled
whatever body parts called to them, their own or another’s, they
kept their gazes riveted on the two people at the front of the
room.

Moisture pooled between her legs and her
stomach quivered. Oh God, Claire thought, her excitement escalating
to almost dizzying heights.

The kneeling woman’s rosy lips formed a
perfect circle as she sucked off the man sitting in a low chair,
his legs splayed open and his thick cock jutting out of his open
fly. The man had his fingers tangled in her hair and was guiding
her head even as he pumped his shaft deep into her mouth, but the
woman didn’t seem to mind. Quite the opposite, in fact. She made a
purring noise and swirled her tongue around the head of the man’s
cock like it was an ice cream cone. The man moaned and raised his
head from where it had been tilted back against the chair, his
familiar features twisted in a grimace of pleasure that, for just
the briefest of moments, made Claire want to kill him, right after
she killed the woman blowing him and the crowd for watching it
happen. They were cheering the couple on, as if the approach of the
man’s climax would bring them all pleasure rather than just
him.

As soon as the man spewed his seed into the
woman’s mouth and she swallowed it, he’d officially be a member of
the Demon Guardians. A brother. One of them.

This was Ty Williams’ initiation into the
state’s most feared biker gang.

Even though she knew it was all part of Ty’s
job as an undercover cop, that didn’t make the red she was seeing
fade any faster or her fingers itch any less with the urge to rip
out every strand of the woman’s long blonde hair and strangle Ty
with it. Apparently, being a voyeur didn’t matter when one of the
people you were watching have sex was someone you cared about.

Of course, the bad girl inside her jeered at
her hypocrisy, which even now made her want to sink to her knees
and take the woman’s place. And although she wasn’t an
exhibitionist — the very thought of being naked and exposed in
front of a crowd made her stomach clench with anxiety — she might
be willing to make an exception if it meant she’d finally get
another taste of Ty. Imagining it made her body flash with heat and
her pussy gush with undeniable arousal.

Realization was like a bucket of ice water
tossed in her face.

Sick. She was sick.

Ashamed and already dreading the knowledge
that would fill Ty’s eyes once he saw her and sensed her
excitement, she tried to move away. To run from the room. Of
course, she couldn’t. Randall laughed and jerked her closer,
pulling her hair with his other hand and yanking her head back.
“Like what you see, do you? Let’s get you a closer look.”

“No —” She’d been a fool to come back here,
but she hadn’t been able to resist.

It had been Hoyt’s absence that had cinched
it.

Six months ago, just before her in-depth
exposé on the gang leader had run in the paper, she’d had the
unfortunate pleasure of talking to the man face-to-face. It had
been him, and only him, that Claire had truly feared during her
entire investigation — and that had been true long before she’d
ever met him. Still, when she’d learned that Hoyt had been arrested
three days ago during a drug raid and would be absent during the
gang’s annual initiation “festivities”, she’d told herself not to
read anything into it. That it wasn’t a sign. That it would be
stupid for her to risk going back onto Guardian property now that
Hoyt and several others knew what she’d written about them. She had
to remember that as harmless as Hoyt’s men might seem, they were
dark enough to do his dirty work for him.

None of it had been enough to keep her away.
She’d heard what went on during Guardian initiations. She’d wanted
to see it for herself.

And she’d wanted to see one particular
person being initiated far more than any other. Now that that was
happening, Ty would discover the very thing she’d been trying to
keep hidden from him.

Voyeurism. Danger. Kink.

It was what got her off. It was her vice and
her shame. And it was the reason she’d run when Ty had come into
her life, even though running from him had been the last thing
she’d wanted to do.

If he saw her now, he would know how bad she
really was. That while he associated with the gang for the greater
good, she did it out of sheer fascination and pure perverted
pleasure…

“Ouch!” She winced when Randall pulled her
hair even harder. Apparently, he didn’t have a problem hurting a
woman after all. He propelled her past the crowd, dragging her
toward the front of the room until she was standing no more than
five feet from Ty.

Even then, he was too distracted to notice
her.

Hard to blame him. Even she was
mesmerized.

The blonde was moving her hand up and down
his massive cock as she continued to suck him. Ty’s eyes were open
but they were fixed on what the woman was doing to him, his eyes
half-hooded and his fingers still tangled in her hair. But Claire
noticed he wasn’t saying anything. In fact, he wasn’t making any
sound. The contrast to how he’d sounded when he’d touched her
months earlier, after police officials had arranged for them to
meet, was marked. She’d been supposed to prep him for his
undercover assignment, but that had led to more intimate acts. The
memory of his gravelly voice wafted around the room, reminding her
that he had been far from silent the night they’d almost made
love.

That’s it, baby. Let me make you feel
good.