The Rage: Hell's Disciples MC 3(4)

"Drinks, Red," he orders her coldly. She bats her clumpy coated lashes at him and adds a pout to her red lined lips.

"Sure thing, baby," and there she goes, sashaying her ass away just as  she did when she walked over. If she puts any more sway into those hips,  she may knock one out of place. She is definitely trying to work it,  but it needs some work.

I stand awkwardly behind him, wondering what I should do, and more  importantly, wondering why the hell I'm here in the first place. This is  so not me. I should be at home, reading or studying, not hanging out in  a sleazy biker clubhouse, but I wanted to do something out of my  element and not so boring, so here I am, and here I'll stay.

Looking over his shoulder, Rampage nods at me and then at the stool, "Put that pretty little ass of yours on the stool, Lala."

The bartender comes back, sliding the shots to Rampage. She leans  herself into the bar with a smile on her lips, boobs resting on the bar  top while she shamelessly flirts, "You sure you don't need me in your  bed tonight, Daddy?" she purrs at him, running a long pink fingernail up  and down his arm seductively. Daddy? Oh now, come on. That's not sexy,  that shit's just gross.

"Nope," he grunts and gives her a dismissive wave. She pouts, but doesn't argue.                       
       
           


///
       

Pushing an amber liquid filled shot glass toward me, "Drink it," he  demands. I hesitate for a second, and he follows it with a rough, "Now,  Lala!"

Shit. I plant my ass on the bar stool and toss back the shot. It burns  its way down my throat and into my chest while I try not to choke to  death. Rum is not my favorite thing to drink. Setting my empty glass  down, it's replaced immediately by another one.

"Another," he says shortly. Well, if you insist. Before he can bark another order at me, I down it quickly.

The bartender watches me. Her disgust for me is written all of her  overly painted up face. Her hands are on her hips and a sneer on her  lips.

"Who's the stuck up bitch?" The bartender asks Rampage, lifting her chin  at me. I watch as he looks at her and his lip curls. I'm only just  noticing how dark his eyes are, and they are screaming trouble.

"Now Red, Lala ain't no stuck up bitch, are ya Lala? Nah, didn't think  so. She just has class, which is somethin' you wouldn't know anything  about, would ya, Red?" Rampage slides the shot glasses toward her and  snatches the bottle from her hands in an angry jerk. "Show some fuckin'  respect, bitch. It ain't your place to talk about shit you know nothin'  about. Understood?" She stands there, glaring at him, "Now get the fuck  outta here." She turns on her heel, scooting off without another word.

I saw a moment of uncertainty in her eyes when he snapped at her, but  she quickly replaced it with anger. She seemed a little scared of him,  but it didn't last long. She may not be scared, but he freaked me the  hell out.

I sit silently and keep my eyes anywhere but on Rampage. A man quickly  takes her place behind the bar and another man is right behind him,  singing some ridiculous country song in a deep twang about a big green  tractor, driving slow and faster, and plowing something … ?

He walks behind the bar, scooping up various bottles as he goes. He  sticks the bottles in his pockets, in his vest, and under his arms as he  walks right up to us. Clearly, he's a very thirsty man. He's also a  pretty big man, so I can see it probably takes a lot to quench his  thirst. Jesus. Do they breed giant men here? He has a friendly, almost  goofy smile on his face as he approaches, and he's handsome, in a  country backwoods boy kind of way.

"Who's the beauty queen?" The man asks Rampage, but he keeps his eyes firmly planted on me. "Lala, but she ain't here for you."

The man just ignores him and smiles at me as he sets down the bottles  and offers me his large, dirty hand. Placing my hand in his, he gives it  a firm shake, "Names Tags, pretty lady, and you're Lala, huh?"

Shrugging I say, "I guess I am today."

Rampage throws back a swig of the bottle and gives me a sideways glance, "She sure the fuck is."

"Well, pretty Lala. You need anything, you find me," I offer him a smile and a nod in return.

Time goes by as Rampage and I sit at the bar. Tags keeps the  conversations going and the drinks flowing. I like Tags. He's friendly  and really easy to talk to. Rampage, on the other hand, chats very  little. His communication skills consists of short sentences, and his  answers are even shorter. However, he does continue to pass his bottle  of rum to me occasionally, and I take small drinks, pacing myself.

Just as I slide the bottle back to Rampage, I feel a wall of bodies come  up behind us. They clearly do not know the definition of personal space  because they are so close I can smell the booze, smoke, and sweat  coming off their bodies. Instantly I feel a little overwhelmed and  nervous. I'm completely uncomfortable with people I don't know so close  to me. I turn to see four giant, mean looking men push into me, crowding  me into the bar. Okay, nervousness aside, I now know that they truly  breed handsome giants here.

One leans himself against me as he reaches for the bottle in front of  me. His leather vest rubs on my back and arm, feeling smooth and worn on  my skin. I can feel the denim of his jeans on my lower back.

"Damn baby, you smell so fuckin' good," he groans in my ear as he blatantly rubs on me. Oh shit.

Rampage gives him a lethal look, but doesn't say anything. The guy  doesn't care because he pushes into me further and grins bigger. I'm  frozen to my seat, not sure how to handle this. This one is pretty  large, not as big as Rampage, but big enough. I'm really starting to  panic now.

"She claimed pussy?" he asks loudly, looking around the room for takers.

I feel my eyes bug out of my head, mouth damn near hitting the bar top.  Claimed pussy? This is the second time I've been called "Pussy" and it's  starting to really piss me off. What does this Neanderthal think he's  gonna do if no one claims this "Pussy?" Club me over the head and drag  me to his cave? I down another shot for courage, readying myself to head  for the door when I hear, "Fuck yeah, she is. She's mine," Lilly  announces as she walks into the room holding Ty.                       
       
           


///
       

Thank you, Jesus.

"Lailah! You came!" Wrapping an arm around me, she hugs me to her. I've never been so happy to see anyone in my life.

The guy who was pressed into me backs up and grumbles, "Sis, why the  fuck you get ‘em all? Shit ain't even fair. Rampage and Tags has hogged  her ass up since she got here, and now you ‘n Tank get her tonight?"  Shaking his head, he sighs dramatically and takes Ty from her, "We need  new pussy in this motherfucker."

Lilly laughs and waves him off, "Shut the fuck up, Crush. New or old pussy, since when do you care?"

He throws his head back and laughs, "Got a good point, babe."

****

I finally feel calmer now that Lilly is here. Ever since she and her son  came into the room, the guys seem a little less rowdy and the slutty  girls, or as I have now learned are called ‘gash,' have made themselves  scarce. Once I actually begin having conversations with the guys, I find  they aren't as bad I would have thought. They're friendly, sometimes  overtly so. They're funny as hell and loud. With Lilly here, it's easier  to just sit back and enjoy what's going on around me now that my  discomfort level has lessened considerably with each passing hour I  spend here. It's certainly not the scariest party I've ever been to. It  started out with me feeling a bit intimidated, but no one has done  anything too crazy, at least not yet.

Rampage hangs back, but he never seems to be too far away. I find myself  relaxing and having a good time with everyone as a sort of comfort  overcomes me. There is an air of safety here, like a fort, and I think I  like it here.





2


Eye fucked


Rampage

The brothers stare at her. Fuck, do they stare at her. Their greedy eyes  are all over that perfect body of hers and I can't blame them. I've  spent my evening drooling over her like a twelve year old boy with a  raging hard-on as I creep around and watch her.

I can't stop thinking about fucking her all over this motherfucking  place while I sit here and watch every move she makes. I'm here thinking  of all the nasty shit I'd like to do to her.

I wanna fuck her bent over the pool table. I wanna fuck her on my bike. I  want those long legs wrapped around my waist as she bounces up and down  on my dick. I want to spread her out on the bar and bury my face  between her thighs.