Family Ties Read online

  “You taste clean. Pity.” He preferred to fuck me when I was filthy and fresh from a gangbang. Disgusting fuck.

  My gaze was on the bag filled with heroin. That was what I wanted. It was what I needed. Now, before he pulled out his cock and shoved it into whatever hole he craved at the moment. “Please.”

  His grin widened at my whispered plea. “You want this? My little whore gonna chase the dragon?” He chuckled and waved the bag like a matador waving fabric at a bull, knowing it was all I could see. All I could think about. “Tell me you want it.”

  “I want it.” I needed it but there was still enough of a privileged princess in me that I kept that shit to myself.

  “Yeah, and you know what I want.” He thrust two calloused fingers inside my pussy, testing to see if I was wet enough for a fuck. “You’re a magic bitch, aren’t you? Keeping that cunt tight no matter how many cocks we give you.” He laughed and fingered my pussy harder and deeper until his fingers were slick. “The kind of cunt that keeps on giving,” he growled and licked his fingers before tossing the bag at me. “Make it quick, my cock is already leaking for you.”

  I took the bag to the opposite side of the bed and grabbed the glass pipe Roadkill had given me months ago, the first time he came to me and got me high before he pounded my asshole into oblivion. One puff. Two. Three puffs became eight and the nine and finally, my body began to float and my mind cleared of everything except the blur of images before me. The pastel drapes that matched the bedspread, the dirty cornflower blue carpet that was more black than blue at this point.

  Roadkill was blurry too, but his shock of nearly white blond waves framing his head while he climbed on top of me was a familiar sight. “Yeah, come here bitch, you’re ready for this cock, aren’t you?”

  “Yes,” I whispered, too high to really know what was going on beyond the main thing I did most days. Fuck. The invasion of Roadkill’s cock came quick and only a little painful. He was too high to be gentle, if he even could be gentle, squeezing my tits until they were pink and then blue, while he fucked me so hard my head smacked the headboard over and over.

  “This is my favorite cunt, always so tight and so fucking wet.” He thrust again and again, and finally, he tightened up, let out a moan and collapsed. His jizz leaked out between my thighs.

  I reached for the pipe again just as Blade came in. Blade was a creepy fucker and the President of the Black Jacks. He was the man who had kidnapped me. The asshole who shot me up with heroin and let five guys fuck every hole I had while he watched, stroking his cock. That was his thing. Watching. He was always watching, brown eyes nearly black always on me while I got fucked every which way possible. He wanted me just as much as he hated me. I could see it in his eyes, but for some reason his was the one cock that hadn’t been anywhere near me.

  Yet.

  It was only a matter of time, I knew that.

  A hard smack on my ass startled me out of my thoughts, but I was too high to do anything but turn over and look at Roadkill. “Come ride my cock, bitch.”

  I nodded and climbed on top of him, my movements clumsy as I straddled his hips and used the jizz still coating my pussy to slid down his long, thick dick. I bounced on his cock like the dutiful whore I was, stoned out of my mind and moving like a machine. Up and down, swirl. Up and down, swirl. I didn’t think Roadkill ever really enjoyed sex. He just got off on the degradation and the busting a nut part, but I never saw pleasure in his gaze. Ever.

  He slapped my face. Hard. “Fuck like you mean it, bitch or else.”

  I knew what or else meant. I’d been difficult and defiant in those early weeks, taking beating after beating, sometimes until I couldn’t stand. Getting ass fucked by a train of thugs with my ribs bruised and screaming from pain was something I never wanted to do again. I learned my lesson really fucking fast.

  “Oh yeah,” I said, moaning as I tried to remember what a really great fuck with a really great guy was like. “That feels good,” I lied with my eyes closed as if I was lost in passion instead of disgusted at looking at his creepy face.

  I bounced and rocked on his cock, doing my best impression of a porn star because that was what he wanted, what he needed to get off again.

  He gripped my hips tight enough to bruise, thrusting up each time I fell onto his cock.

  “Oh fuck, yes!” I said each time. He grabbed my hair and pulled me down so we were chest to chest. He crooked an elbow around my neck so I couldn’t move while he fucked me from the bottom, choking me as he thrust harder and deeper. Finally, his cock shot hot spurts of come into my body while Blade watched and stroked his monster cock, his dark gaze never leaving mine.

  I was never quite sure if they set it up this way, but Roadkill’s visits to my hotel room always coincided with Blade’s.

  I didn’t care anymore. I stared back at him, my mind blank while he stroked his cock faster and faster, until a white stream shot into the air, arcing before it landed on the carpet. His face twisted in dark pleasure, but his gaze never left mine. “Fuck,” he growled so low I barely heard over Roadkill’s loud exclamations of release.

  “Good job, bitch. I think I’m fal-l-l-l-ing in love with my little who-o-o-re.” He sang-song.

  Gross.

  Roadkill shoved me away and stood beside the bed. “Suck me clean so we can get the fuck outta here and I’ll make it worth your while.” His grin was dark and hateful, but I knew what I’d get for sucking him clean so I crawled across the bed on all fours and licked his cock until it gleamed. He tossed a second bag on the bed. “See you soon, baby. Keep that cunt wet for me.”

  Not too soon, I hope. They were both gone before the thought was complete and as soon as they were, I ran to the bathroom and rinsed my mouth out. I wanted to shower, but the high felt so good I didn’t want to sober up.

  I took the little baggie he gave me and readied another hit. Watching myself in the long bathroom mirror, I inhaled. I used to be so beautiful. Now, I was nothing but a junkie whore. Yes, a fucking junkie. They did this to me.

  I hated that sometimes when I was high, I liked getting fucked. I took another hit and warmth flooded my body. Euphoria.

  Roadkill was nasty as fuck, but when I got high, I didn’t care. And Blade, with his cock in his hand all the time? I bet he’d fuck me good if I acted right. My pussy clenched with need, and I didn’t know if it was the drugs or my filthy thoughts. Nor did I care.

  Speaking of filthy, I reached into the shower and started the water. I needed to get the come off my chin. Out of my hair. I stepped into the shower and let the warm water wash off the remnants of Roadkill.

  This baggie had to have been from a different batch ‘cause I was nodding. Oh yes, sweet sleep may come tonight. I shut off the water and wrapped the threadbare used-to-be-white-now-gray towel around me and fell onto the bed.

  I was too high. My mouth felt funny. My heart was beating slowly but thumping hard. Too hard. Yes! Come take me away.

  I laid there and willed for death. Euphoria, fear, high and then higher. High enough to end my suffering forever. I didn’t want this feeling to end. I reached for the drugs again just as the door burst open and a really big man I’d never seen before entered the motel room.

  “Fuck! What do you want, man?”

  “Aww, baby girl. Is that how you talk to your Daddy?” he said and locked the door behind him.

  Oh, no. Not another crazy.

  I spread my legs because sex was what they all wanted. He shook his head and said, “No girl, I don’t want that used up skanky pussy.”

  “Then what do you want?” I asked through the haze that was finally letting up. The groggy haze I was hoping would kill me just a few seconds earlier.

  He reached into a backpack and pulled out some rope, zip ties and a bottle of something I couldn’t identify. Then he turned to me and smiled a creepy as fuck smile.

  “I said I’m your Daddy now, bitch.” The last thing I saw was a big meaty fist flying into my face.

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  Chapter Three

  Charlie

  “Were we ever that young?” Jameson sat beside me, an ice cold beer in his hand as we watched the younger kids burn off energy playing football in the field behind the clubhouse. He shook his head and barked out a laugh. “It’s impossible to believe we were ever that kind of young.”

  “No fucking way.” Jameson laughed and shook his head. “On a Sunday afternoon like this, we would have been figuring out how to sneak a few beers to some older girls in hopes they’d show us their tits.”

  He motioned to where Stone and Baby Jax hovered over a tablet with his free hand. “Not playing video games for sure.”

  “Well, I’m happy to know my daughter wasn’t out showing her tits for a couple cans of shitty beer.” Vivi’s voice took us both by surprise, a fact that thrilled her judging by the smirk on her face.

  “Looking good, Vivi.” These days her hair was dark purple, which only seemed darker against her pale skin.

  “Yeah, thanks kiddo. Don’t think you can charm me with those beautiful gray eyes, El Presidente.” She dropped down on the stool between Jameson and me and gave us a beaming smile.

  She spread her hand out to include the entire party. “Look at this family. Everyone is so grown up now. You and Jameson. Now Maisie’s getting married. Y’all are growing up too fast.”

  “Is that right?”

  “Yeah, it is, smartass.” Vivi smacked my thigh and arched a brow, her expression practically a dare. “When you finally have kids, you’ll know what I mean.”

  Jameson looked away, some kind of uncertainty swimming in his eyes before he covered them with sunglasses. That left me to deal with Vivi’s knowing gaze. “I hear ya, Aunt Vivi. But kids aren’t on the horizon right now.”

  “Good. Take care of yourself. Love you, Baby Face.” She grabbed my face and smacked a loud kiss on my cheek.

  “Yeah, love you too. Crazy woman.” She laughed and I joined in just as everyone turned their attention to my mom. “Who’s ready for some food?” she said with a platter of hot sizzling barbecue in her hands. “Fresh off the grill,” she added.

  The back door of the clubhouse smacked open and Maisie appeared in the doorway, dressed up like she’d just come from her job at the casino. “I can’t stand the shit show,” she shouted. “A fucking cluster fucking shit show!”

  “Language,” Peaches said from behind her as she gave her ass a loud smack. “Little ears are around.”

  “My bad,” she said, though she didn’t look even a little apologetic. “But this is a real life emergency, Peaches. Like, life or death.”

  Peaches wrapped an arm around Maisie and shook her head. “You look great, but damn you’re skinny, and I’ve missed you so much.” She squeezed Maisie again, the way she had every time the girl she raised as a daughter came into her field of vision.

  “Drink this and then tell me what’s wrong.” Peaches handed her a shot of bourbon and folded her arms, an expectant mother expression on her face.

  Maisie nodded and picked up the glass before she sniffed it and poured it down her throat with a satisfying sigh. “There’s been a fire. At my caterers. My caterers!” Her blue eyes went as wide as saucers and I could tell she was moments away from panicking.

  Peaches nodded and sent me a questioning look as if I kept a list of backup caterers in my back pocket. “And what does Virgil have to say about this wedding emergency?”

  Maisie sighed and rolled her eyes. “Not much, honestly. He got me a list of local companies, but he’s convinced the fire wasn’t accidental.”

  Shit. “What reason does he have to suspect that?” Suddenly I was very interested in her wedding problem.

  She shrugged. “Because that’s what the fire department told him. They set the fire on purpose, blah, blah, blah. Focus, Charlie. Food. I can’t have a wedding reception without food, and all the caterers Virgil sent my way are booked.”

  If someone set the fire on purpose, it was likely The Crusaders or the Black Jacks MC, hell maybe it was Brendan Rhymer still lurking around. Somewhere. “Where is this catering company?”

  Maisie groaned and rolled her eyes. “Are you even listening, Charlie, because all I hear is more arson talk when what I need to hear is who can make upscale, delicious reception food in less than a week. Got it?”

  I nodded and pushed up off the wooden bench seat. “Yeah, I got it. I get it, but if this was arson, we have to consider that maybe the reason is your wedding.”

  Jameson frowned. “Why would anyone give a shit about her wedding? No offense, Maze.”

  “None taken,” she said with a weak smile as she brushed off his words. “But it’s a good question.”

  I sighed. “Because this looks like a fucking marriage of dynasties.” I emphasized the last word. “We have damn near the whole Opey Chapter of Reckless Bastards in town to watch Gunnar’s little girl marry a fuckin’ Ashby, which could be viewed as a threat in some circles.”

  “Looks who’s already thinking like a president.” My dad’s voice boomed loud behind Maisie, startling her almost out of her ridiculously high heels. “It’s something to consider, but weddings are hard enough without food, am I right Sunshine?” He wrapped an arm around Maisie’s waist and kissed her cheek. “I’ll bet Jana or Teddy will know who to call. Come on.” Dad flashed a worried look over his shoulder at me and then Tate. “I’ll catch up with you guys later.”

  My uncle Tate, who everyone still called Golden Boy even though his hair was more faded gold and silver than blond, nodded and came my way with a worried frown knitting his brows together. “So, we need to do some digging?”

  “Yeah, I’ll talk to Jasper first. See if he knows anything.” Despite Cross’s concerns, the Ashby’s had proven to be effective allies lately, and I planned to continue the partnership for as long as it worked for us.

  Both of us.

  Chapter Four

  Savannah

  I hate you. I hate your stupid, ugly face and I wish you would just fucking die already. The reflection that stared back at me with lifeless blue eyes and messy brown hair was unimpressed with my words and my hatred. The tough, cynical woman who stared back at me didn’t care that I hated her or that I wished us both to hell.

  She didn’t care about a damn thing.

  After sixty long seconds, I spit the nasty gold colored mouthwash into the stained sink and washed it down the drain along with the memories and remnants of another satisfied piece of shit. Just another day at the office.

  I hoped the big dude, my new daddy, didn’t come back. He was brutal. I’d came to with my hands zip tied behind my back and his cock pounding my ass. He’d beat me to within an inch of my life, and I wished he’d just end me.

  Fuckin’ sicko.

  The hotel room was even more depressing with the rumpled sheets and stained pillowcases, but the bottle of vodka that lay broken in front of the lopsided nightstand provided hope. The bottle was small, but the shard was just sharp enough that one quick swipe, across my throat or down each wrist, could provide oblivion in minutes. Possibly seconds.

  I looked at the door for several long seconds, waiting for another unwanted intrusion, and when it didn’t come, I scooted across the bed and hid one shard in the drawer, tossing the other in the trash.

  If Roadkill found it, he or Blade might assume it was an instrument of protection. A weapon. And since there was no such thing in this world as ‘no’ or hard limits, there was no need for protection. Whatever the client was paying for, he—sometimes she—got.

  I didn’t know what, if anything, I’d actually do with the broken glass, but it was nice to have options. Whatever happened next would be on me. It had been months since my kidnap, and it was obvious that Father had forgotten about me. I never expected Brendan to come to my rescue because without me around, he would get everything he ever wanted. Which was everything.

  Which means I’m on my own. I either die here or die trying to escape.

  Th
at was it, my only two options. Death seemed preferable to whatever asshole came through the door next, yet I’d had plenty of chances to end this shitty existence and I hadn’t done it.

  Yet.

  Each day was a new opportunity and that was what made each day bearable. Barely, but still.

  The door smacked open and Roadkill stood in the door, outlined by the yellow light that never went dark because business hours didn’t end. Whether I was asleep, taking a shit, or shoveling a burger down my throat, business came first. Always.

  “Ah, there’s my favorite little cunt.” He flashed a smile that was best described as menacing, his crystal blue eyes so fucking creepy a shiver crept up my spine. “Come to me, cocksucker. Slowly.”

  I knew what he wanted the same as he knew what I wanted. I got on all fours and crawled across the bed. Slowly. His cock grew behind his zipper and Roadkill was unleashing it before he stepped inside, leaving the door open because what was the point in privacy? I had to give him credit for the many ways he found to intensify the degradation. On the other side of the bed, I sat up on my knees and tugged open the silky red robe he’d given me as a gift.

  Roadkill growled at the sight of my tits and took another step closer, cock jutting toward the sky, already leaking with need. “Perfect. Just fucking perfect.” His blue eyes were saucers up close, a sign he was so fucking high he probably barely knew where he was. “Lay down,” he barked and I did. “No, hang your head over the side. Yeah, fuck yeah.”

  I knew this position well; it was perfect for a rough face fuck, the kind that made me feel like I might puke or choke to death. I spread my legs open and opened my mouth, assuming the position.

  “Push those tits together.” I did what he demanded, and Roadkill growled again, sliding his cock between my tits. “Treat these balls as if they mean the world to you, and I’ll be very grateful.”