King (Rogue Rebels MC) Page 6

  I had my knees pulled up to my chin, as I sat on the bed in Moira’s guest room. I was wearing a pair of her pajamas and an old t-shirt, which she had so graciously offered. I didn’t think that Jesus would return that night, and I couldn’t go to sleep. The shock of everything that had happened was dissipating, and sadness and fear were settling in. I knew I was exhausted, and I needed sleep for my body to recuperate, but I couldn’t do it, I couldn’t sleep.

  So, when Jesus knocked on the bedroom door, I gasped, imagining that it was Juan or someone from the gang. They had found me! Instead, Jesus stepped in, and I watched his silhouette in the dark at the door.

  He had come rushing to my bed side and knelt down. I had reached for his face, feeling his lips under my fingertips. Then he told me that he knew it was Juan who had kidnapped me.

  Jesus was pacing the floor now, listening to what I was saying. I could see the rage bubbling up inside him with every word that left my lips.

  “Did he have you tied?” he asked, spinning around to look at me again.

  “Not in the warehouse, I suppose he knew that I couldn’t go anywhere,” I told him and looked shiftily away. I was getting closer to the point in the story where I would have to tell him what Juan eventually did.

  He saw it in my eyes; he knew something else had happened. I gulped and licked my lips.

  “I thought I could make a phone call. To Papi or anyone outside. Juan’s cell phone was in the pocket of his pants, and I thought nobody was looking, so I reached for it…” I said and nearly choked on my own words. Jesus came rushing towards me, knelt down beside me again and reached for my hand.

  “He caught you, didn’t he?” he said, in a low, breathy voice and I had no other choice but to nod my head.

  “He punched me, I fell, and then they pulled me up and forced me to watch again,” I said, and I could feel the tears trickling down my cheeks.

  He reached for a teardrop, running his finger along the length of my cheek to catch it. When he brought his finger away, he was staring into my eyes. My lips were quivering; I couldn’t say a word or make a sound.

  “You’re safe now, Valentina, I’m going to make sure that you don’t ever have to witness something like that ever again,” he said and fixed his hands on the back of my head, interlocking his fingers together.

  I nodded and tried to smile, and realized that there was a throbbing ache at the back of my head now.

  “I remember what he did to you…to the other kids, he was cruel,” I cried and he took in a deep breath.

  “He was older and more experienced,” he said.

  “And a lick-ass. Papi thought he was a loyal warrior for the gang, I bet he never thought that he could get out of hand, that Juan would one day kidnap his own daughter,” I said, my voice shook as I spoke. Jesus stroked my hair, peering into my eyes and then he stood up abruptly.

  “I’m going to take care of him, Valentina,” I heard him say, and he turned from me and walked over to the window in the room. Only the lamp on the bedside table was switched on. The rest of the room was dark, and there was an unsettling silence both outside and inside the room, so much so that I could hear Jesus breathing.

  He was looking outside, and I slipped my legs off the bed. He had no idea how safe I felt when he was here with me. How overjoyed I was when I saw that he had returned. I hadn’t expected to see him again so soon. I expected him to be caught up with the MC’s work, and yet he had made time for me and returned.

  I walked up to him and placed a hand on his back. Jesus whipped around to look at me, and I saw that his dark eyes were sparkling.

  “I’ve thought about you every day,” he said gruffly, and I gulped.

  “I shouldn’t ever have left,” I said, and he stepped closer to me, my hand grazed his solid muscular chest now.

  “You had to leave, to make a better life for yourself. You shouldn’t ever have come back,” he said and placed his hands on my waist.

  “I wouldn’t have seen you again if I didn’t,” I managed to say, just as his lips met mine. We were kissing again, his tongue sliding over my lips and thrusting into my mouth to claim me.

  He lifted me up by my waist, and I wrapped my legs around him, pulling him closer to myself. His crotch against mine. I could feel the hot throbbing of his cock, through the rough material of his jeans. I was just as turned on as he was, and he knew it.

  “I’ve dreamt about you for so long, Valentina, burning with jealousy every time I thought of you with someone else,” he said when he pulled his lips away from me. He was carrying me towards the bed again. I smiled at him.

  “There weren’t many others, Jesus. And nobody came close,” I said, and he plonked me on the bed, the back of my head bouncing on the mattress as he laid me down.

  He jumped on me, pinning me down to the bed as he started raining a shower of kisses on my chin, neck, my breasts…he lifted the t-shirt up so he could gain access to my belly and he kissed it too before his fingers lingered on the spot between my thighs. My juices were wetting my panties as well as the thin cotton material of the pajamas, and he slipped his forefinger roughly between my legs. He stroked my pussy, and the friction and motion made my body writhe with pleasure.

  I reached for him, my fingers weaving through his hair as I pressed my eyes closed and bit down on my lip.

  It was like we couldn’t keep our hands off each other. The moment we were alone together, we pounced on each other hungrily. Jesus was watching me, looking at the effect he had on my body.

  When he left the bed, my eyes flew open in panic. One minute he was stroking my pussy with his fingers and the next, he wasn’t anymore. I panicked that it was all just a dream, that he wasn’t even in the room with me. When I opened my eyes, I found that he was undressing.

  I watched him, as I lay there on the bed, watched his clothes coming off piece by piece as he discarded them to the floor. His body was revealed, those chiseled muscles, his heaving shoulders, the tattoo in the center of his chest. No man even came close to being as sexy as he was, and I rotated my hips, arching my back in a primal, instinctual dance to lure him back to me.

  I saw a smile flicker on his face as he watched me, wanting him.

  “No woman has this effect on me, Valentina,” he said and came closer to me, hooking his fingers on the frayed elastic band of my pajamas. He had it slipped down to my ankles in a second, and I pressed my thighs together. I could feel the sticky juices on my skin now where my pussy left its traces.

  His hands were rough on my body as he yanked the t-shirt off over my head. Jesus’ eyes glowed, like a child who had set his sights on an ice cream cone; when he saw that I wasn’t wearing a bra. He reached for my breasts, cupping them, squeezing…making sure that my desire for him reached uncontrollable heights.

  “Get on your knees,” he growled gruffly as he positioned himself at the edge of the bed.

  His cock swung between his legs, hardening by the second, and he placed a hand on his hip. I knew what he wanted from me now, and I couldn’t wait to give it.

  I knelt in front of Jesus, my face at level with his cock. It was big…too big for my mouth but I wanted to taste him. I wanted to know the power my tongue had over his body. He had his head bent forward, and he was looking down at me as I looked up to meet his sparkling dark eyes. His face was overcast, his eyes were narrow, and I knew he was trying hard to not come over my face already.

  I stuck my tongue out at first, just so that I could graze the tip around the tip of his cock. I gasped when my tongue touched him, and I heard him grunt. The desire came in a wave that shook my body.

  I kept my eyes on him, my hair waving like a flag down my back as I licked his cock again. This time, the whole length of him so I could taste him in my mouth. He hardened, and I sensed his muscles stiffen.

  I was teasing him, and I liked it. I wanted to tease him to the point that he might burst at the seams. My tongue ran up and down the length of his cock, with my hands lying flat, pressing d
own on the bed. He reached over and slapped my ass lightly, and I felt the sting, only enticing me more to tease him.

  I stretched my mouth open and slid him in, just a few inches so that he could feel the tightness of my lips. Jesus grunted, groaning in the pleasure of my mouth and I slipped him out. He grunted again.

  “Fuck, woman! What are you doing to me?” he growled and I felt a shiver run down my spine. I knew he was losing control. This big powerful man who had rescued me from my captors, was putty in my hands, completely under the control of my tongue. I slipped his cock into my mouth again, just when I felt the pressure of his hands on the back of my head.

  He jerked my head forward, sliding his cock smoothly back into my mouth again. I nearly choked from the size of him, thrusting deep down my throat. I was gagging when he pulled out, but he wasn’t about to stop now. Not now when he had got a taste of what I was capable of. He pulled at my head again, thrusting his cock into my open mouth and I moaned, as his cock grazed the back of my throat. He was big and violent in my mouth, claiming me with every push.

  I reached up and grabbed his powerful thighs, using them as support as my head slid forward and backward in a smooth motion. When I caught his eyes, I could see that they were narrowed still, focusing on my face as he fucked me. I was choking and enjoying it at the same time. The fact that I had this much control over him thrilled me made me wetter. I didn’t want him to stop.

  Jesus pulled himself out at the last moment, just when I tasted the salty sweetness of his pre-cum. He lifted me up, by hooking his hands under my arms and he whipped me around in one fluid motion.

  I moaned, enjoying being a doll in his hands, as he positioned me in front of himself.

  I pressed my back to his chest, lifting myself, grazing my back along the length of him. His mouth was near my ear now, and I could feel his hot breath in my hair. His breathing was harsh, just like mine was and he had his hands clasped around my belly. With one hand, he gently pushed away my strands of chestnut hair and brought his mouth close to my ear.

  He nibbled at my earlobe as I continued sliding my body up and down. His rock-hard cock grazed and dug into my back…my ass…and I moved some more.

  “You are so fucking hot, Valentina,” he breathed gruffly into my ear and slipped his hand up to cup my left breast. His thumb played with my nipple, and I writhed against him. He was pulling and tugging my sensitive pebbled peak, twisting it to the point of pain and then releasing it. I could feel my juices dripping down the insides of my thighs. His cock was digging into my ass as we pressed ourselves together.

  I reached my arm over, twisting it around both of us so that I could get a grip on his hair. I laid my head down on his shoulder so that I could look up at his face now. His jaws were angled squarely, his skin glistened like copper, and he continued to play with my breasts.

  “Please…Jesus, please, fuck me,” I begged him, and a smile flickered on his face.

  “I like it when you plead,” he said and squeezed my nipple harder. I winced with desire and bit down on my lip.

  “Please, fuck me…I can’t hold back any longer. I want to come. I want you inside me when I come,” I urged him and he wedged a hand between our bodies.

  I could feel him guiding his cock towards my pussy. He pushed me forward, and I fell on my hands so that he could have access to my pussy. He searched it out from behind me, checking to see how wet I was and then his cock thrust into me. I moaned as he inched deeper and deeper inside.

  Before I could even begin moving myself, he had grabbed me by my waist again and was pulling me back up. His cock remained inside, and he had started a slow rhythmic thrust. My back was pressed to him again; my head was resting on his shoulder, my eyes staring up at the ceiling as we started moving together.

  Jesus’ thrusts were strong, and with each of them, he grunted. His hands gripped my waist, keeping my body in position as he plowed into me. Somehow, this time the sex was slower, more meaningful. That hungry desperation to possess each other had disappeared. This time around, with his arms around me, holding on to me possessively, with the rhythmic thrusts he was using…it was like he was trying to tell me something, that he had me, that he was going to keep me safe.

  When Jesus’ fingers moved down, from my waist to my belly and then my pussy…I knew that he wanted me to come. His thumb stroked my clit now, and I could feel a searing electrical shock running up and down my spine. He didn’t stop thrusting, didn’t stop moving inside me as my clit became even more engorged, a sudden quivering overwhelmed my body.

  “Come for me, Valentina,” he whispered in my ear, and I gave up. I could feel the fissures opening up, my body revolting against my mind as I allowed the feelings to take over me. My orgasm jolted my body, and I screamed. I clutched his hair with one hand and squeezed his hand on my pussy with the other as I stretched myself against him. My senses opened up. I could feel every stroke he made inside me, his thumb frantically playing with my clit, the tuft of hair on his chest that gently grazed my back as I pressed myself against him even more.

  Then Jesus came too. He had burst inside me, and our orgasms swallowed us up together. I could feel him shoot deep, and he growled and cried out my name.

  “Valentina…” he grunted, and his voice shook as we came together.

  “Jesus…I…I…” I was on the verge of confessing I still loved him, but the sound of his growls deafened my voice, till he was done and his orgasm began to subside.

  Our bodies swayed, as I remained in his arms for a moment longer. Then he was sliding out of me again, that familiar feeling of panic overtook me. He was going to be gone, just like he had done before. He was going to put on his clothes and leave.

  Instead, once he had slid himself out of me, he crashed down on the bed. The mattress creaked under his weight as he lay himself down, crossing his arms behind his head. I remained sitting on the edge of the bed where he had left me, my breasts heaving from exhaustion.

  A film of sweat covered Jesus’ forehead, and when I least expected it, a smile flickered on his face.

  “Come over here,” he said and stretched an arm out towards me. I crawled over to him on my knees, my heart quickening in my chest as I settled into his arms. I couldn’t believe this was happening…that there was a chance that he might stay.

  My head was supported by his arm as we stared up at the ceiling together.

  “Try and get some sleep, Valentina,” he said, in a breathless voice and I quickly closed my eyes. I knew there was a smile on my face and maybe finally, I would be able to sleep again.

  Chapter 11

  King

  The next morning, I left Valentina asleep in bed, and I snuck out of Moira’s apartment, hoping that she hadn’t heard us the previous night. I was just about to get on my bike and head back to my place to shower and change when my phone rang. It was my mother calling.

  “Mijo, I need your help,” her voice cracked as she spoke into the phone.

  “Is everything alright?” I asked her, already preparing to ride away.

  “I had a fall,” she said.

  “I’m on my way.”

  I reached her house and parked my bike in a hurry before I ran up the steps to her apartment on the second floor. It had been three years since I found this new place for her to live in. All my life, I had worked towards earning enough to take care of my family and now finally, I could. My life had changed ever since I joined the Rogue Rebels and now I could do the things I always wanted to do for mom, which included buying her a safe and spacious new apartment to live in. I also made sure that she always had new clothes to wear and her pantry was stocked with food. Whatever had happened to me in my teenage years was not her fault. It had all been my dad’s doing.

  I burst through her front door and found mom lying on her living room couch. The television was on mute in front of her, and she had one leg raised up.

  “Are you bleeding? Did you break anything?” I rushed to her and knelt down beside her on the
rug.

  “No, just a sprained ankle, mijo,” mom reached for my face and stroked my cheek affectionately. She had fought hard against my father when he traded me in with the Muerte Viviente; essentially selling me into slavery. But against the physical and mental abuse of my father, neither she nor I were immune. She was powerless, spoke very little English at the time, and had no friends or family to turn to. She had left her life in Mexico, and immigrated with my dad to America at a young age and since then, she had been alone. As hard as she tried, she couldn’t keep me safe from him.

  I sat down on the rug now, pressing my back against the legs of the coffee table that I’d bought her a few months ago. Now, she was at peace. My dad had been dead for four years, and I knew she was proud of me. Proud that I had escaped the clutches of Muerte Viviente and managed to make a life for myself. I looked into her aging face and saw a woman who had lived a hard life and had tried her best to give her son a better one. She had failed, at most of it other than raising someone who was strong and could stand up for what he believed in.

  “Are you okay, mama’? Should I take you to the doctor?” I asked her, resting my arms on my folded-up knees and she shook her head. Some strands of her graying hair came loose from her bun and fell around her face.

  “It’s just a sprained ankle, mijo; I just need to rest it for a few hours,” she spoke in Spanish to me and smiled. “I called you because I’ve run out of milk and eggs and I thought maybe you could do some grocery shopping for me,” she added, and I nodded.

  “I’ll go in a bit,” I said to her, and she moved, trying to sit up straight so she could see me better.

  “Keep lying down, mom, you need your ankle to heal properly,” I said and patted her knee. A few moments of silence passed between us, while she watched me closely. I had made it a habit to visit her once every week to keep an eye on her, and I knew mom could tell that there was something on my mind. Although, sometimes now, I wondered if Valentina knew me even better, better than my mother ever could. Now, of course, too much time had passed, and I wondered if she was the same person anymore.