Tank: Apaches MC (8 page)

I speed up a bit, knowing that it’s what guys want. Smooth friction is the name of the game. My hand lurches forward before heading back down the same path. He leans back as I go faster, moving more rapidly. This time, I add a bit of a twist at the top, just enough so that he can feel a different sensation. In return, I can feel his cock practically pulsating against my hand, as I struggle to hold onto such a big instrument.

“Take it in your mouth,” he commands, completely out of breath. I don’t even second-guess it. I remove my hand and slowly open my lips just enough so that his cock slips inside. My tastebuds sense the salty drips of liquid coming from the small slit. It’s deliciously warm as I lap at it for more. But he wants more. “Deeper,” he says. And I make his wish my command.

I take as much of his cock in my mouth as I can before I feel as if I’m going to gag. As I get to the end, I feel his hands wrap around my long hair to form a ponytail. With one swift motion, he pulls my head back as the cock slides nearly out before I can catch it with the suction of my lips. He then dips my head back in. I start to get his rhythm down, as I begin to pick up speed once again. He lets go of my hair and allows me to take him in. And I move at just enough speed so that I can still taste every centimeter of him growing in my mouth.

My hands wrap around his thighs as I start to grow tired. But I can’t quit now. I want him to come. I want to make him explode from just my mouth. And I won’t stop until he’s there. I look up at him; he’s completely transfixed in his own world. His head is cocked up to the sky as his hands rest on his hips. He looks like a Greek God surveying his kingdom, and a bit of me jumps in glee, as I think about how I have managed to make this giant of a man succumb to me.

I bring all the moisture I can get to the front of my mouth and swirl my tongue around him as I continue to stroke him. I feel his body start to tremble slightly, his knees softly dipping, his thighs tensing under my palms, his fists pushing into his skin. Even his mouth parts, as I hear a loud groan. I see his hands go for the fistful of my hair again as he pulls me completely off his cock and lifts me high enough so that my breasts wrap around the underside of his now pulsating dick.

His hands wrap around his shaft as he pulls twice to keep up with my speed. And in one exquisite second, I watch in awe as the white, frothy juices pour from his cock onto my skin. A bit travels down my nipples, causing me to shake as if I’ve been out in the cold. In reality, I’m practically jumping for joy. This is exactly what I wanted—for this man to submit to me.

When he finishes his long, slow descent, he looks down at me in awe. “Where the fuck did you learn how to do that so good?”

I smile wickedly, as I stand slowly. My hand reaches out towards his chin, scratching at the hint of stubble coming in around his jaw. I pop onto my tippy-toes and bring my lips to him. Before they can touch, I whisper softly so that he can feel the heat of my words, “I’ll never tell.”

I hate leaving her like that, sprawled naked in that huge king-size bed. But I wasn’t lying when I told her I had business to attend to. Even her dirty mouth couldn’t keep me from meeting with Guzman and his men.

As I make my way through the Casa de la Belladona, a safe house my men and I use when we visit the town, I find my man, Manuel. He’s been keeping this home at its best for years now, and I know that I can trust him to keep his mouth shut. “Manuel,” I shout towards him, as he finishes speaking to two of the groundsmen. “I need you to head to town now and purchase a robe and a dress for the woman I am with. Knock and then leave it outside her doorway. She’ll be wanting it soon.”

“Yes, señor. Certainly.” Manuel’s eyes grow in anticipation as I begin counting the money out of my wallet. He knows he can keep whatever is left over, and there is always plenty for him. It’s payment for him keeping quiet. He has seen a lot, more than even I can really fathom. But his loyalty has never been questioned.

But as I am handing him the cash, a thought comes over me. “Manuel, I need you to also pick up some groceries.”

“Some groceries? My wife is here to cook dinner, señor.”

“Yes, and I will pay her for her time, plus a few extra hours if she could come by tomorrow morning to clean. But please have her leave the food she has purchased for us. After I come back from my meeting, you are dismissed. Just leave the guards outside with instructions that they are not to let anyone out or in besides me after seven tonight.” He nods enthusiastically and takes the large roll of money, slipping the bills between each of his fingers as he turns towards the servants’ corridors.

I go the opposite way, through the front gate towards where the men have brought my motorcycle. I hitch back on and head towards the back alleyways where men are smoking and women are drying clothing. They all turn and head indoors when I pass. No one dares to cross my path or be ahead of me as I pass.

Around here, I am known as El Corazo, or the Armor. They started calling me that after I first fought it out with the drug lord, Henrique and his men. We managed to only lose two that night. Henrique was not as lucky. With him out of power, I appointed Guzman, a local businessman to take his place. Guzman was surprisingly more of a snake than Henrique. Legends of his iron grip over this town has not escaped me, especially since it always comes with the threat that El Corazo would return if anyone disobeyed Guzman’s commands.

A year after I took over the Apaches and Guzman was put into power, he started branching off and selling to other MCs along the border. I should have cracked down, but the goods he was sending through to my men were as pure as gold. Compared to the other dealers I have in place, nothing quite matches the supply and demand for Guzman’s string of narcos.

So I let him double-cross me and do business with the Aztecs, the Johnnys, and the Valpos—all with the understanding that only I get the best stuff. And that when I want answers or intel, he gives me what I want. When he told my man, Rafael, that he would only talk to me, it signaled that something was amiss. There were bigger forces at work here.

I pull into Guzman’s hideout, a heavily guarded old fort from the early 1900s. Ladies dressed in black and red lace saunter around the henchmen, distracting them enough so that I practically walk in. It’s not till I’m halfway up the stairs when I’m caught. This time, it’s by my own man. Rafael smiles, as he reaches out a hand for a quick embrace. “Brother, it’s about time. They were expecting you hours ago. And they’re not so patient today.”

I follow him the rest of the way through the open-air terrace and down the sandy-colored stairwells. “Do you know what’s going on here?” I ask, as we get to the doorway of the old great hall. “Why the fuck does he need me here?”

“Your guess is as good as mine. I heard from one of his seconds that he wants to renegotiate the contract. But his head of security says he has info that you need to hear. Either way, no one is talking to me.”

Rafael has always been my head spy. Fourth in command for the Apaches. He may not be my right-hand-man, but I trust him more than any other. Not only is he great at the business side, he can also read people better than anyone I know. It makes him invaluable when I am dealing with assholes like Guzman.

“Where are the rest of our boys?” I whisper. It’s not a secret that I sent Rafael with backup; it’s common sense in our line of work. But that still doesn’t mean we’re giving their location away.

“I sent them to the bar across the street. They came in a gunner van to keep a low profile.” Guzman touches his nose, a signal that he is alert and aware of the situation. I nod back and then open the double doors with a bang.

The sound echoes the hallway as a dozen men stop what they are doing and turn towards me. All of them are hunched over a map while a man in a chair remains seated at the head of the table. When he sees me, he raises his arms out and shouts, “Apache! I was wondering when you were coming.”

I say gruffly under my breath as I shake his hand, “I don’t see why I needed to. You could have told my man.”

“Ah, but where is the fun in that? When it comes to business, I prefer to deal with the man in charge.” He claps his hands and the men quickly pick up the map and head back out the door we came in through. Rafael stares up at me, and I, too, motion for him to leave. With the room cleared, Guzman points at a nearby chair that I pull up to his round table.

“What do you want? Is this about Rafael’s question about the girl?”

“I’m afraid yes and no. I’m still working on that girl’s case. I know something, but I want to be sure. I should have some news for you tomorrow. Tonight, I want to talk business.”

“I didn’t come here to talk business, Guzman.”

“You’ll want to hear this though. It seems as though the Aztecs are no longer wanting my services.”

“What?” I am in complete disbelief. Even if they were not getting the quality stuff we had in our arsenal, they were still getting premium quality goods at a reasonable price.

“Yes, I was just as shocked as you. It seems that Abe and his men are now doing business in Carlitto with a new kingpin by the name of Jerrico. I sent my men down there last week to raid, but they came back empty. So I have to ask, if Jerrico doesn’t exist and the Aztecs are not working with my supply, what are they planning on doing?” 

I don’t have an answer for him. Abe has always been off the rail. Ever since I kicked him out of the Apaches for the killing of one of our enforcers, he has been on the warpath against me. He started the Aztecs, drew out new territory that we hadn’t covered yet, and did business with our enemies. All of this in a quest for vengeance.

Guzman, noticing my furrowed brow, continues, “So that’s where the girl comes back in. Rumor has it that Abe is gunning for you. The attack on the girl is an attempt to rally his troops and when you’re least expecting it, he plans on hitting your men. One of his men told this to my border patrol just two days ago.”

I stand up immediately, feeling the familiar heat of rage creep over my body. I walk towards one of the empty writing desks and place my hands around the cold edges. In one swift move, I take the heavy piece of furniture, and I slam it onto the ground. My yells echo throughout the hall in a burst of sound.

Behind me, over the sound of my loud panting, I hear Guzman’s chair scratch on the tile surface. He walks towards me slowly and places a hand on my shoulder. I spin, grabbing him by the neck and throwing him down to the ground. “Don’t you ever touch me, you snake!”

The older man shivers as pulls at my grasp. His wispy voice chokes back, “I am trying to help you, you idiot!”

“What do you mean, ‘help me?’ How can a son of a bitch like you help me?”

I watch as his face turns a sickish color of blue, and his throat begin to cave under my grip. I let go a bit, just enough to let him talk. He coughs, struggling to find his voice. Finally, he clears his throat enough to whisper, “Backup. I’ll send backup. In exchange for you moving an extra hundred kilos in the next two weeks. The feds are on me, and I need it gone. You do that and my men are yours.”

“These men are fighters? Not like the ones who let me walk straight into your fortress?” I am intrigued. If Abe wanted to start a war, there was no stopping him, especially after Carmen’s attack. And the only way to stop a war is to strike back. Having extra men could weigh heavily in my favor.

“These men are my enforcers—former soldiers. They will provide twenty-four seven security to you and your team. I will provide them with weapons as well.” 

“A hundred kilos?” I ask again. It’s double our normal pull, especially with the police following MCs even closer now. It’s not impossible, but it was going to be a risk, especially with Abe’s men on our tail.

“A hundred kilos by the end of this month. If the job isn’t done, my men come back and we renegotiate the terms of our agreement.”

I stand up, brushing the dirt from the tile floor off of my knees. Guzman follows behind me as he struggles to recover. I reach out my hand and shake his. Before I can leave, I give him a warning, “I’ll be back tomorrow for your men. In the meantime, load up my boys with the supplies. They’ll ride out of here at dawn.”

When I manage to wake up, it’s pitch-black outside. Compared to the city lights I’m used to, there’s not even a streetlight to illuminate my room. My hands search for a light switch or a lamp along the side of the big brass bed, but I come up with nothing. I am forced to slide out of bed and towards where I think the bathroom door is. I manage to find the wall, and the bathroom springs into my view.

My eyes take a second to adjust before I can find the main room’s lamp. Once turned on, I finally get a decent view of the bedroom I’m staying in. It’s massive, I’ll give Tank that. The stone floors are covered in blue painted flowers and yellow brush strokes while the rest of the room is in bright, burnt reds. It’s a mix of rustic and vintage that I love.

To the corner is the large desk where we began our hot and heavy session, and next to it is an equally large chest of drawers. I spot my discarded dress in tatters near the bench. That’s not going to work for the rest of the trip. I walk to the bed, the same bed that Tank lifted me onto and placed me in hours ago, and tear off the cream-colored sheet. Wrapping it around my body, I promise myself that this is just going to have to do for now.

I take a deep breath and pray that those groundskeepers are gone as I open the door to the courtyard. It’s the same kind of darkness from my bedroom earlier with the dark sky above covered in sprinkling stars and a yellowish crescent moon. Despite the area being empty, I hear music in the distance. It’s some old rock and roll song I haven’t heard in years. I spot the light coming through from the far corner of the terrace, and I quickly walk towards it.

From the small crack, I spot Tank standing over an open fire. A black apron is tied around his waist and his hand is covered in a bright pink oven mitt. I push the door open even further and give a little cough. He spins towards me, a steaming pan in one hand and a spatula in another. “What are you doing?!” I cry out to him, laughing at the sight.

“What does it look like I’m doing?” he asks, as he gestures to his ridiculous apron that is covered in frilly lace. “I’m cooking you dinner.”

I walk towards him, hitching up the sheet around my ankles. “Do you even know what you’re doing?” No motorcycle guys in my world would dare to cook for themselves. That’s what greasy take out joints and their old ladies were for.

“You tell me.” He hands me a spoonful of a red bubbling broth. I take a quick taste, expecting it to be far from appetizing, but the basil and tomato hit me instantly as I’m brought back to my grandmother’s old tomato soups. I take another spoonful, letting the warm liquid fill my mouth.

“That’s incredible,” I finally say. “How did you learn to do this?”

“Go sit at the table, and I’ll explain. Dinner’s almost ready anyways.” He turns back to his stove before adding, “There’s a robe out by your door if you don’t want to eat naked…though I’d prefer if you did.”

He gives me a wink before I dash out to the courtyard back towards my room. In a pile sits a perfectly folded black, plush robe, along with a new pair of clean, black lace panties. They’re completely see through, but I’m grateful for anything to wear. I’m not the type of girl who loves being exposed like this.

When I come back towards the kitchen, I spot the candlelit table with the white linen cloth. The entire area next to the pool sparkles and glimmers. And sitting down at one of the chairs is Tank, a relaxed smile washed over his steely face. He stands when he sees me and pulls out a chair. Before I can begin to ask him the million questions on my mind, he does the answering for me. “My mother, before she passed, used to make me take her out on dates. My old man was never around, so she thought it was important to teach me how to be a gentleman—which includes cooking a lady dinner and setting a table.”

I place a napkin in my lap and instantly dive into the tomato and basil soup. We spend the rest of the meal chatting about his mother and his life pre-motorcycle club days. He joined the club at sixteen, just a kid, right after she died of a heart attack. He’s nostalgic as he talks about the men who brought him under his wing and taught him how to ride. And when the last Apache president died in a crash, he was surprised the men elected him.

It’s a softer side of Tank that I would never know was there. He doesn’t talk as if the club is full of violent thugs or heartless criminals. These men are his boys, his brothers, his friends. And the experiences they share, good or bad, has somehow shaped him into the person I’m dining with tonight—for good or for bad.

As I finish my last bite, I softly say, “Your mother taught you well.” I say in seriousness, “I’ve never had a guy cook me dinner or even bring me somewhere as beautiful as this.”

“I’ve never actually done it for another woman either, so I guess you’re my first.”

“That’s surprising. I know Abe is always getting women who throw themselves at him. The Apache president doesn’t have the same problem?” I’m probing him, I know. But it doesn’t hurt to know a bit more about the guy seemingly wining and dining me.

“No, I have that problem, if you want to call it that. But they’re not exactly the girls I want to show a good time to. It’s more of a one-and-done kind of deal.”

I put down my spoon and look him into the eye “Is that what you plan on doing to me tonight, Tank?”

He, too, places down his silverware and takes a long drink from a large champagne glass. When he finishes, he catches my glare, his face transforming into something darker and more sinister. “No, Sierra. When we’re done here, I plan on giving you the ride of your life, and this time, we’re both going to cum together.”

I suddenly feel completely full, as I struggle to finish the soup without my hand shaking and my legs trembling under me. He devours the rest of his bowl, places his napkin on the table, and stands up. He takes my hand, forcing me to stand as we head out towards the pool area where a bedside cabana has been set up.

As I watch the water ripple and sway with the light breeze, he wraps an arm around my waist and pulls the tie that holds my robe together. I let the robe fall towards the ground without any protest. He stands before me, stunned, “You look amazing.”

I don’t let him say another word before I reach towards his face and brush the strands of curls out of his bright blue eyes. My arm wraps around his neck, as I pull him down to me. Our lips part, as that taste of our skin on skin mix. He is frantic with his kissing, forcing my head to spin and reel around with him in a pattern I can’t figure out.

As our mouths link, his arms frantically feel at my body. He explores every inch as if he has never felt it before. And as he grips my ass with the strong palm of his hand, I feel myself floating upwards into his grasp. My legs circle his hips, and he walks us slowly towards the cabana. My back hits the mattress first, followed by his body crashing gently on top of mine.

He straddles me, giving me the opportunity to lift his shirt up and over his head. In the night sky, I can make out the spirals of the tribal tattoos that dot his shoulders and chest. There’s an arrowhead over his heart, the sign and brand of an Apache. My fingers trace the outline, as he watches me in wonderment.

Tank kisses me again, a parting kiss, as he sets off on a trail down my body. He passes my velvety neck through the crevice of my breasts, his hands pushing my tits together so he can take in even more of the smell of me. He then heads south towards my stomach, tickling lightly with his tongue as he goes. When he hits my hips, I’m already gone. They rise to meet him, begging him to remove the panties.

But he stops. He doesn’t throw or tear them off. Instead, he kisses at the extremely thin fabric. I feel him circle under me, going lower to my slit. I can feel the hot air of his breath linger on my velvety skin as I cry out. I can’t stand this tease.

He speaks into my covered flesh as he asks, “Do you want my mouth on you?” I can barely get my “yes” out. But it’s not enough for him. “Beg me.”

I pause, unsure of how to go on. I want him, no, I
need
him down there. Every part of my body is sinking further into this bed, waiting for him. As he waits for me, his fingers part my lips through the seam of the panties.

“Beg me,” he tells me again.

This time, I don’t hesitate. “Tank.” He inches the fabric down slowly. “Oh God, Tank. Please!”

“Please what?”

“Take me.” I reply immediately. “Go down on me… please!”

“Whatever you wish, Sierra.” The way he says my name, the words brushing over my tickling skin, sends me reeling. It’s slow, deliberate, passionate.

I feel his forefinger hook under the lace line of the panty and pull it down over my thighs and knees. He then parts my legs gently, as he positions himself in between. I look up and over my body to see him taking one look at my pussy, fully exposed for his own viewing pleasure. He pauses before lowering himself down. He takes a breath, sucking in the air around my legs. And then I feel it—the soft embrace of his tongue.

It dances on my outer skin, tracing lines around my vulva. But it’s not just the tip, it’s the entire tongue streaking across me from top to bottom. When it makes its way to my slit, I hear him murmur to himself—a sign that he’s found out my secret. I’m already sopping wet.

One hand quickly joins his mouth, parting the skin for him like an open door. When his tongue is in, the fingers linger, finding my clit underneath the thin layer of skin. As soon as he hits it, I’m no longer in control. My hips rise and then fall back to him as he pushes down to keep me still. He goes in again, this time holding onto me as tightly as he can.

His tongue replaces his finger on the clit, as he flicks lightly at the little nub. It moves with his mouth, back and forth. He then inhales and kisses it, taking it into his mouth just as he had done with my own tongue moments earlier. The sucking is too much, as I reach down to his head to pull him away. But his arms are too much for me as they slam my hands back down into place.

I feel the pressure of a finger enter my slit. His hands are rough, but they feel perfect against the sensitive folds of my insides. It smoothly finds its way in while he continues to tease at my clit. A second finger enters, stretching me even more. Every part of me feels as if it is being ripped away, and I love it. He begins to speed up, pushing those fingers harder and deeper as his suction only grows tighter against my skin. I grit my teeth as my toes curl, my back arches, and the fire within me sparks.

“Tank!” I call out his name, as I explode onto his hand and mouth. My skin tightens and relaxes quickly as it pushes out all of my orgasm. I struggle to keep my head from spinning as he continues to push into me. This time, his tongue does all the action as he goes in for a taste of what my body has made for him.

Tank eventually comes up from air, as I can see just the top of his head bobbing a bit by my knee. I pull him up by his neck as he takes my mouth into his. I’ve never tasted myself, but my salty sweet liquids mix with his own taste, and I’m completely overwhelmed. I push him away and look at him in his night sky eyes. “Fuck me. Please, Tank. Fuck me.”