Reaper's Property

Chapter Twelve

A hand slid into my sweatpants sometime during the night, fingers grazing my * as a mouth claimed my breast. I moaned, sleepy and unsure if this was a dream or not. Then the hand left me to pull down my sweats. I opened my eyes, awake now, trying to figure out what was happening. A man was on top of me. Gary? I opened my mouth to scream and a hand covered it even as he spoke.
“No more sleeping in shit like this,” Horse murmured as he pushed his leg between mine. “You sleep naked or in something sexy, no excuses.” Then he kissed me gently below my left ear, nuzzling my neck. He pulled his hand from my mouth and I punched his shoulder.
He laughed.
“Don’t cover my mouth!” I hissed.
“Didn’t want you screaming and rupturing my eardrum, babe,” he replied, his voice low and sexy. He pressed his hips into the cradle of mine and I shuddered. How could he piss me off so much and turn me on at the same time? It wasn’t fair. “You gonna behave or should I tie you up?”
“Are you serious?”
“F*ck, yeah, I’m serious,” Horse replied, reaching down to find my *. I arched up and moaned, because no matter how angry he made me, my inner slut wanted him. Bad. “I’m the boss. You remember that or I’ll teach you.”
He caught my hands and pulled them roughly over my head, holding them prisoner with one hand while his other worked me like he’d done in the bathroom. My body was starved for this, still wound up from earlier. I’d been too paranoid to touch myself after the shower, nervous he’d come into my bedroom and discover me. I don’t know why keeping that part of myself from him seemed so important, but it was.
In less than a minute, he had me primed and ready. He pulled away and I heard the crinkle of a condom wrapper tearing. Horse muttered a curse in the darkness before coming back, catching my hands and pinning them on either side of my head as he lined up his cock with my opening.
Horse had a big dick—I knew this. But I didn’t truly grasp the implications until he started pushing into me, slow and steady, no hesitation and no stopping. I squirmed against the bed as he filled me, the satisfaction of feeling full tempered with little twinges of pain as he stretched me wide. I could just make out his features in the faint moonlight streaming through the window—a mask of determination and desire that overwhelmed me. Then he hit bottom, balls-deep in my body. My muscles twitched around him, little tremors running through me as I struggled to hold him.
“Gotta get used to me, babe,” he murmured, dropping kisses across my face before taking my mouth again for the first time without urgency. “I’ll take it slow.”
And he did. Gradually I felt myself relax around him, and when he started stroking, that big cock of his rubbed against me in places I hadn’t even realized existed. Gradually he moved faster and I started lifting my hips to meet his, body eager for more. Usually I don’t come from vaginal sex alone—I need more stimulation for my *. Horse was different though, because his body was big enough to spread me wide open, exposing my center to the delicious slide of his erection as he pumped in and out of my body. Having my arms pinned wide added to the experience because I couldn’t do anything to stop him. I had to take what he gave me, no arguments, and that was weirdly liberating—utterly guilt-free sex.
I don’t think even a minute went by before I came, arching my back up from the bed, every muscle in my body squeezing hard enough to hurt.
That’s when he let go and started f*cking me for real.
Horse went from gentle lover to biker thug, rising on his knees as he released my arms. He grabbed my waist, lifting and tilting my pelvis to provide a better angle as he literally f*cked himself with my body. I have no idea how much time passed, but I know at one point I reached down and rubbed my *, chasing a second orgasm. When it hit and I clenched around him again, he fell over the edge, exploding inside me. He dropped me back down on the bed, covering me as his cock bucked and shuddered his release.
Holy shit.
We both stilled, panting as we recovered. Then Horse rolled off me, stood up and pulled off the condom, tossing it in the little trash can next to the dresser. He walked out of the room without a word, leaving me in the darkness.
I’ve never felt more alone in my life.

I woke up to bright sunlight and silence.
Rolling out of bed, I winced at the soreness between my legs, although I couldn’t say I regretted it. I’d never come like that before, not even with my vibrator. I pulled on a tank with a shelf bra and jeans without panties. I hadn’t thought to rinse my others out last night, and I certainly wasn’t going to put them back on dirty. Horse may have declared my privates a panty-free zone, but we needed to have words about that. No way I wanted to go commando permanently.
I hit the bathroom and then walked downstairs, listening for sounds of life.
“Horse, you here?” I called. He didn’t answer, but I heard the clicking sound of a dog’s toenails on the wooden floor. I wasn’t entirely comfortable with dogs, and this one sounded big to me.
Horse wouldn’t leave me alone with a violent animal, I told myself firmly. He might be a jerk but he didn’t want me dead. I peeked over the banister, poised to run back up to my room if it turned out to be a monster. Instead I found a mid-sized dog with long silver-black hair broken by white streaks looking up at me hopefully. Its mouth hung open in a wide puppy grin, tongue flopped to the side.
Not exactly a killer.
“Hey there,” I said softly, working my way down the stairs. The dog watched me intently, mouth closing as it took on the fixed look of a herd dog at work, ready for anything. I reached the bottom of the steps and held my hand out low. The dog approached me, sniffed my hand and then started butting against it for a scratch. I obliged as the dog melted to the floor, writhing in ecstasy.
“You’re not much more than a puppy,” I murmured. “I’ll bet you fly when you jump—do you like chasing sticks?”
“Be careful what you say to him,” Horse said. “You start making promises, he’ll hold you to them. Takes a hell of a long time to tire him out too.”
“I didn’t think you were here,” I muttered.
“Not all of us make noise constantly,” he replied. “You sounded like a herd of moose up there.”
I scowled.
“I did not sound like a moose,” I said. “It’s not my fault the floors are old and creaky.”
“I didn’t say you sounded like a moose,” he replied, an almost friendly expression on his face. “I said you sounded like a herd of moose. There’s a big difference.”
I rolled my eyes at him.
“I made breakfast,” he said, jerking his chin toward the kitchen. “It’s not much. I want you to take over the cooking and shit, but I was hungry and you weren’t moving.”
I blushed, thinking about why I’d been tired, and he gave a low, satisfied chuckle.
“That’s Ariel, by the way,” he added, jerking his chin toward the dog. “But I call him Ari.”
I stared at him.
“You have a boy dog named Ariel?” I asked, not quite sure I’d heard him right.
“My niece named him,” Horse replied, shrugging. “Would break her heart to change it and I figure the dog doesn’t give a shit. I can live with Ari.”
I nodded, biting the side of my cheek. Once again, the badass biker was a mystery. He issued threats, carried a gun that I was pretty sure he knew how to use, and he let his little niece name his dog after a mermaid.
Split personality, no question.
Breakfast wasn’t fancy but it was surprisingly good. He’d made French toast with some ham on the side and wedges of ripe, juicy cantaloupe. The meal followed the same pattern as the night before, except this time he told me to put together a shopping list after we finished. Then he disappeared, taking the dog with him.
I spent about an hour working my way through the kitchen, making notes of what he had and what he needed, surprised to find that while he didn’t have a ton of fancy gadgets, what he did have was solid and high quality. Same with the pots and utensils. By the time he came back I had a list long enough to fill both sides of the paper. He looked at it, raising an eyebrow, but didn’t complain.
“Rig’s out front,” he said, starting toward the door. I followed him hastily, wishing I had my purse but not entirely sure he’d wait for me if I went to find it. Ari danced between us and tried to jump up into the dark-green Tahoe parked next to the house.
“No f*cking way,” Horse said to Ari, and the dog barked at him, clearly pleading.
“No,” he repeated, voice firm.
Ari slunk away, looking pitiful.
“You don’t tie him up or anything?” I asked as we started down the driveway.
“No need,” Horse said. “I’m far enough out that I don’t need to worry about kids or strangers hurting him. He knows where his house is and I guess if he decides to run off that’s his choice. So far he seems happy to stay put.”
Kind of like me, I realized. I could leave at any time, but I wouldn’t and Horse knew it.
He surprised me by pulling onto the freeway after we hit Coeur d’Alene, driving across the border into Washington. After about twenty minutes he exited near a giant mall, pulling around and parking without a word.
“I thought we were getting groceries,” I said, confused.
“We are,” Horse replied. “Gotta get some other stuff first.”
I followed him into the mall and couldn’t help but notice how much attention he got—most of it from women. I got that, because Horse was a hell of a sight. Tall, tattooed, hair back in a ponytail and wearing his cut over a shirt so faded you couldn’t tell what the original design had been. Jeans showcased his exceptionally fine ass, and the chain dangling across his hip attached to his wallet completed the picture perfectly. Men noticed him too. Most of them got out of his way, even the young toughs wearing gang colors and pretending to be badasses. I couldn’t decide if it felt more like walking with a superhero or a super villain—either way, people cleared out of path fast.
I tagged along without question until we stopped in front of Victoria’s Secret. Then I crossed my arms and shook my head.
“Oh hell no. I’m not going in there with you. We can hit a Walmart or something.”
“Don’t want you wearing shit that you wore for Gary,” Horse replied, draping an arm around my neck, pulling me into his body. He leaned over and spoke directly in my ear, voice husky. “I don’t give a damn if you never wear panties again, but I know women are weird about that. Here’s the compromise. I’m gonna buy you new shit, but only shit I like. You’re gonna wear it until I pull it off to f*ck you. Everyone wins.”
I opened my mouth to protest, then snapped it closed. I needed panties and bras, and I didn’t have my own transportation. I’d been smart enough to shove my cash and debit card into the backpack last night, but that money had to last until I got another job.
Shit, I’d forgotten about work.
“I need to call my boss,” I said.
“You scheduled to work today?” he asked, sliding his hand up to tangle it in my hair. I shook my head.
“No, not until tomorrow.”
“So you call her when we get home.”
“What am I going to tell her?” I fretted. “She’s been so good to me, she doesn’t deserve to have me just disappear on her without notice…”
“Tell her you got kidnapped by a biker and now you’re a prisoner in the mountains,” he said, leaning over and catching my mouth with his in a long, slow kiss that left me shaky. Before I could collect my thoughts, he grabbed my hand and tugged me into the store. I pulled back, still not too happy about the idea. He turned toward me, put both his hands on my shoulders and leaned in to me, face to face.
“Babe, I can’t wait to see you in some of this shit,” he said. “Your old job is not my priority here. I don’t give a f*ck what you tell her so long as she doesn’t file a missing persons report and make my life a pain in the ass. She does, things aren’t gonna go well. We clear?”
“Okay,” I said, biting my lip. His eyes caught on my mouth and grew dark, so I quickly pulled away and wandered toward a rack of panties—simple ones. Pretty but not slutty, plain cotton hip-huggers. Horse followed me, watching as I picked out a couple and shook his head.
“Get a few of those, you’ll want ’em when you’re on the rag,” he muttered, fingering one distastefully. “But the rest of the time I want you in something sexier.”
His tone didn’t leave any room for negotiation, so I didn’t bother arguing when he turned me bodily and pushed me toward the racks of higher-end stuff. A saleswoman came up to us, all fluttering lashes and smiles for Horse. Before I knew it, I was in a changing room with her, she had measured me and there was a pile of stuff for me to try on. Horse wanted to come in too, but I held my ground, so he waited outside and I called him in to look at each set once I had it on. I don’t know what the store policy was on couples in the rooms alone, but apparently it didn’t apply to giant bikers.
Unfortunately, this meant that he made the final decision on both what I tried on and what he planned to buy. In the end, I had six new pairs of sexy panties with matching bras, in addition to six pairs of plain cotton ones. Some of them were thongs, some were boy cut high across my ass, but all of them showed off my figure in a way that even I had to admit was hot. Then he started picking out corsets and nighties. Some of them looked like something from a bordello, all black lace, cutouts and bright red satin. Others were more tasteful, including a long, lacy nightgown and matching silk robe that looked almost virginal. My favorite piece was an ivory corset and bustier trimmed with faintly pink ribbons shaped like tiny roses. There were matching panties, and the look on Horse’s face when he saw them turned me liquid.
We ended up spending more than a thousand bucks. I almost had a heart attack, but Horse just ignored me as he paid the girl in cash. I don’t know whose eyes were wider when he pulled out that wad of bills, hers or mine. Then he handed me a black pushup bra and matching thong, saying, “Go put them on.”
I did what he said.
I figured that was the end of our shopping, but when we got back in the car he drove me to a motorcycle dealership. There he bought me a couple of Harley-Davidson tank tops that were way, way tighter than anything I’d ever worn in public before and a lightweight leather jacket. Next we stopped at a place called the Line—a strip club with an attached store full of women’s clothing. Apparently it belonged to the Reapers, and while the place wasn’t open yet for the day, the staff had arrived and were busy getting ready.
“I don’t like this place,” I told him as I followed him through the club toward a door in the far wall. Everywhere I looked were girls wearing almost nothing, some of them naked except for thongs and high heels while others wore silky robes. A few of them took his arm, pressing against his side. Some looked at me speculatively. One reached down and slid her hand over his fly, squeezing as she kissed his neck.
“Back off,” Horse said, clearly annoyed. She pouted and turned, glaring at me. “F*ckin’ bitches,” he murmured, unlocking a door leading into the store next door.
It wasn’t open for the day and I was thankful for that. This place made Vicky’s Secret look like a burkha warehouse. Edible panties, stripper heels, leather and lace and sex toys everywhere, including a few that made Horse’s equipment look small, which kind of frightened me. I literally couldn’t find a safe place to put my eyes, so I watched Horse instead as he picked out an outfit best described as “post-modern slut”. It included a dark-brown leather corset/bustier that stopped mid-stomach, exposing my bellybutton and the curves of my waist. He threw in a skirt so short I seriously wondered if I’d get arrested if we went out in public.
“I can’t wear this,” I told him, shaking my head as I looked at myself in the mirror. He stood by the counter, ignoring me. “I can’t, Horse. I’ll die.”
“You’ll wear it,” he replied, obviously preoccupied as he wrote something in a ledger.
“No.”
He looked up at me, taking in my belligerent stance. His eyes narrowed and we stood frozen for nearly a minute, neither of us blinking or giving an inch.
“We gotta go over the rules again?” he asked finally. “Because the way I remember things, you were begging to do whatever it took to save your pansy-ass brother, despite the fact that he came to us, asked us to back him and then screwed us over. In my world, that’s a prepaid funeral. You changing your mind about our deal? Door’s right over there, babe.”
“I don’t understand you,” I said, voice low and unsteady. “You can be so nice sometimes. Why do you do this?” I asked, gesturing to the horrible outfit he’d picked. “Do you really hate me so much? I don’t think I deserve this, Horse.”
He shook his head, reaching up and gripping the bridge of his nose between a thumb and forefinger.
“I don’t hate you, babe,” he said. “You piss me off, but I can live with that. Hell, f*ckin’ turns me on most of the time. But you just don’t understand all that’s happening here and I can’t tell you without f*cking things up. If this bothers you I’m sorry, but there’s a good reason for it. You’ll just have to trust me.”
He turned back to the ledger, ignoring me for another minute. I watched him, seriously considering whether or not to back out of our deal, but I couldn’t do that to Jeff. He needed me.
“Shit, I forgot,” Horse said suddenly. “You need some shoes too. Go pick something out. Doesn’t matter which ones, any of ’em will do.”
Happy for a distraction, I wandered over to the wall of shoes, thankful that for once I could pick for myself. Then I realized why he didn’t bother telling me what to get, because each and every pair were clearly designed for stripping and nothing else. I settled on a pair of patent leather Mary Janes that would have looked almost demure if they didn’t have a four-inch spike heel.
Amazingly, almost every other shoe had even higher heels, some of them on platforms so tall I doubted I’d be able to take a single step wearing them. I grabbed the shoes and gave them to Horse, who didn’t say anything. His eyes darkened though, and he reached down to adjust his pants. I felt a little thrill of desire and power roar to life, which bugged the crap out of me. Why couldn’t I decide whether I liked him or hated him? How could I go from being angry to horny so incredibly fast? It wasn’t fair. I changed back out of my clothes and he bagged them, along with some teeny tank tops and baby doll t-shirts that read “Support your local Reapers Motorcycle Club”.
At least the trip to the grocery store wasn’t bad. It took us about an hour to get everything on the list. Once again, people took care to stay out of his way, which worked just fine for me. We didn’t even have to wait in line to check out, everyone just waved us ahead of them.
“Is it always like this?” I asked him as we loaded up the groceries.
“Usually,” he replied. “We’re not the biggest club, but we’re definitely in charge around here. So long as they give us respect, it’s all good. Not many citizens up for taking on a Reaper, that’s for damned sure.”
“What happens if they do?” I asked. He gave me a sharp look.
“What do you think?”
Stupid question.
When we got home Horse insisted on unloading the groceries, telling me to go upstairs and put away my new things. While just thinking about the stripper skirt gave me hives, I had to admit that the shoes made me feel sort of sexy. I couldn’t resist trying on the bustier again, which wasn’t so bad with my hip-hugging jeans. I couldn’t see my whole body in the mirror on the top of the dresser, but I saw enough to know I looked good.
Really good.
Once I finished pulling off tags and putting things away I wandered downstairs. Horse was gone, but I found a note on the table.
Got shit to do—hang out and make yourself comfortable. I’ll be back around seven. Have dinner ready. We’re going out tonight.
Not exactly the master of conveying information.
I grabbed Horse’s cordless house phone and a book, then settled myself on the front porch to call Denise and let her know I wouldn’t be back to work. I felt like a complete ass when I told her I couldn’t give any notice. She didn’t buy my excuse for a minute.
“What’s going on?” she demanded. “Don’t bullshit me, Marie. Your trailer burned down last night and now you tell me you’re living with some man you barely know? What’s really happening? Tell me why I shouldn’t call the cops.”
It was hard to do, but I tried to put just the right amount of concern about the trailer burning into my voice while still sounding happy about my new circumstances.
“Jeff called me last night and told me about the trailer,” I said, trying to sound earnest and sad. “He said he started it, I guess he left his pipe on the floor before going on a beer run. I’m bummed that it burned down but I’m lucky because I already had all my stuff packed up and moved out. Jeff told me he’s crashing with a friend. He doesn’t want me to come back, says it’s his problem and he doesn’t have a place for me to stay anyway.”
“I see,” Denise said, although clearly she didn’t. “I don’t think that’s the whole story, but I guess it matches the newspaper story. Marie, I hate to say this, but I’m not going to be able to give you a reference.”
“I understand,” I replied, feeling depressed. She sighed heavily.
“You call me if you need me. I’ll respect your decision but things go bad fast sometimes. I’ll drive up and get you any time.”
“Thanks, Denise,” I said, eyes watering up. I didn’t deserve her kindness, yet she offered it without strings. As I put the phone down, I decided that sometimes kindness hurts more than getting hit physically.
Go figure.

True to his word, Horse disappeared until a little before seven. I spent my time alone reading and exploring the property. There were several outbuildings, including an old barn and a bunkhouse. The barn had been cleared out and converted into a shop where Horse seemed to be rebuilding a couple of different bikes. I found a fridge out there with some beer in it, which made me think of Picnic, Max and Bam Bam visiting me and Jeff in better times. Horse also had a big fire pit out back, surrounded by stumps that appeared to do double duty as seats and chopping blocks as needed. There were four picnic tables too, obviously hand-crafted.
I guess Horse was good with his hands in more than one way.
I fixed chicken and dumplings for dinner, one of my favorites because it always filled the house with a welcoming and comfortable smell, perfect for day’s end. I heard Harley pipes outside and then Horse walked in through the mud room.
“Smells great in here,” he said, wrapping his arms around me. I leaned back into him, enjoying the feel of his body against mine. Apparently nice Horse would be joining me for dinner instead of his evil twin. “After we eat, we’re going out. I want you to wear the clothes we picked up at the Line.”
I stiffened, pulling away from him. So much for nice Horse. He sighed but didn’t pull me back. Instead he walked over to the stove and peeked into the simmering pot. I glared at him, deciding he could serve his own damned food. He shrugged, taking a bowl and filling it before he put some salad on a plate. He carried it all to the table, sitting down and tucking in.
“You gonna eat?” he asked after a couple of minutes.
I wanted to tell him to go to hell with his strippers and their lurid, nasty clothing, but my stomach picked that moment to growl, totally ruining the moment. I grabbed food and sat down across from him.
“This place we’re going tonight,” he said. “It’s another MC’s clubhouse, Silver Bastards, outside of Callup.”
“Where’s Callup?”
“Silver Valley, between here and Montana. Middle of nowhere, really. They’re a Reaper support club, run the valley for us.”
That led to about a hundred questions, all of which I suspected would fall under the category of “club business”. I decided to focus on logistics instead.
“How am I getting there?”
“Back of my bike,” he replied, like the answer was obvious.
“In that skirt and those heels? Not a good plan, Horse.”
“Not the most comfortable,” he agreed. “But we need to do it.”
“Why?”
“Gotta make the right impression,” he replied. “Enough questions. Listen up—when we get there, you stick with me, and I mean all the time unless I tell you otherwise. You got no property patch, you’re not an old lady. Every biker in the place’ll tag you in the first five minutes. That means open season, and wearing clothes like that will attract a lot of attention.”
“Then don’t make me wear them.”
“Just do what you’re told. Don’t take a drink unless I okay it. Don’t dance with anyone. You gotta pee, you tell me and I’ll walk you back to do it. Some bitch gets in your face while you’re in the bathroom, you scream loud so I can hear you. Got it?”
I agreed, not liking the sound of this at all.
“Go upstairs and get ready now. Your hair’s gonna be blown to shit on the bike, so don’t worry too much about it. I want to see a lot of makeup though. And don’t bother bringing a bag, just your ID. I’ll carry it for you.”
I grimaced. Of course he’d carry it for me. Stupid stripper clothes didn’t exactly come with pockets.
This was gonna suck.