Revelators MC: Highway To Hell Read online

  He grips her throat and squeezes tight. Only then did his cock get semi hard. He likes it rough, real rough. “Take my dick out.”

  "Yes, baby!" She moans.

  “I’m not your man! Don’t use that baby shit with me.” He clenches her throat even tighter.

  She unzips his pants and pulls out his member. He’s a big man with a big cock. She can’t deep throat him, not that it mattered. It takes more than a lacking of a gag reflex to be his bitch.

  With his other hand, he seizes a handful of her hair, forcing her down further onto this cock.

  She gulps down the first four inches between her thin lips as she began massaging his sack. He glances down at Samantha. He didn’t see her he imagined Chanel. He pictured her kneeling before him. Her delicious mouth stretched wide by his thick cock. He envisioned his hands wrapped in her luxurious, long black hair.

  He forced her head down a further on his hard meat. “Open your fucking mouth, don’t suck!” He grunts as he began fucking her face.

  His cock is glistening with spit as he moves her head up and down. He imagined Chanel rubbing her sweet pussy. While her large tits swaying back and forth as she consumes his cock. The beautiful image is ruined by Samantha’s’ high pitch moans of passion. It’s a noise that is somewhere between tires squealing and a cat dying. He groaned as he began to lose interest and his erection.

  His head turns toward the hallway when he heard footsteps. Clutch the club secretary and his step-brother walked into the room. He plopped down in a chair next to the couch.

  “Hurry up, we need to talk.”

  Mud Dawg grunted and shoves Samantha off his cock.

  “I didn’t say you had to stop.” Clutch took out a blunt and lit it.

  Mud Dawg stuffed his semi hard dick back into his jeans. “No, I’m done, go on and leave,” he points towards the hallway with his thumb.

  She picks up her clothes and scurry out of the room. She’d have her chance with Mud Dawg on another night. He’s a Revelator and the owner of Kickers and that was all she needs to secure her future.

  Clutch waits till Samantha was out of sight before he spoke. “Are you up for tonight?”

  Mud Dawg took another drink. This gulp is bigger, the taste more powerful. The back of his throat burns and he liked it. “Yeah, I’m good.”

  “Are you sure?” Clutch face shows his concern for his step brother.

  Mud Dawg eyeballed his step-brother. Clutch long brown hair is pulled back into a ponytail. Half of Clutch face is tattooed with such detail it should be a painting on the ceiling in a cathedral. It’s an epic battle of good and evil.

  A divine angel begins at his scalp. A demon is on the lower half of his face going all the way down his neck; in the middle of his cheek is a man being ripped apart. It’s an accurate reflection of the one percenter lifestyle.

  “I said yeah,” Mud Dawg finally answered as he stretched back out on the sofa. The pain from his physical therapy session is starting to radiate through his body. He’d stop taking the OxyContin, but he still got the refills from his doctor because he sold them. He only took over the counter medication but tonight he might need something a lot stronger. Every inch of his body feels like it’s on fire.

  “I’m good.” Weakness around here meant that you weren’t useful. Without the club he’d be nothing but another convicted felon. The Revelators are his life and he didn’t want to live any other way.

  Clutch didn’t say anything, he knew better. Mud Dawg down played his pain. He’d almost died that night a year ago and his full recovery has been a long time coming. The thought of losing his step-brother, his best friend is more than he wants to think about. He just needs to make sure that his head is in the right place.

  Mud Dawg puts his legs back down onto the floor. He reaches for the bottle and took another huge gulp. It was hard for him to stop moving, the pain searing in his back is severe. He heard more footsteps walking in their direction from the hallway. “Are you locked and ready?” Roland the club president and his step father ask when he walks into the room.

  “Yeah” Mud Dawg said as he stood up. His legs feel shaky. “Let’s go take care of this motherfucker!” Mud Dawg replied with a malicious grin.

  ***

  An unmarked black truck is parked in the backyard of Ted Perkins house. He’s inside, sweating like a whore in church. The men surrounding him were killing him with their eyes until they could do it with their hands. The Revelators motorcycle club members do not tolerate betrayal of any form.

  Ted Perkins also known as Big T. He takes off his watch and gave it to Clutch. His hands are shaky with fear. His pulse raced as his eyes continued to dart back and forth between the men.

  Clutch removed his watch passes it to Mud Dawg. He immediately threw it back at Ted, hitting him in the face.

  “It’s all I have!” Ted voice squeaks as he tried not to break down and sob like a baby.

  Mud Dawg smirked, he felt like a kid in a candy store. “Let’s do this!” He calls out. “I need to have some fun! Release some of this built up tension.”

  Roland raises his hand and motions for him to wait one moment. Forever the peacemaker, the club president wants to give Ted a chance. There is a lot of information they need and they're running out of options.

  “Talk fast and speak the truth.”

  Mud Dawg grunts and began searching the room to occupy his time until he could do what they came here for.

  “I got some mollies in the bedroom and some weed in the utensil drawer in the kitchen.” Ted trembled as he spoke.

  “This isn’t about the money you owe Clutch; it’s about you betraying us.” Mud Dawg shouts from across the room.

  “What? No, no,” Ted shakes his bald head. “I didn’t know what was going to happen. I swear.” He looks back and forth between the men. “I’m an eighteen supporter for life. I didn’t know what the Jones brothers were going to do.”

  “Who said this had anything to do with the Jones Brothers?” Mud Dawg sneered at Ted as he pockets the herb.

  The blood drained from Teds’ face as he realizes his deadly slip up. Mud Dawg races over to Ted. He’s the first one to strike. He punches Ted in the face, sending him to his knees. Clutch and Roland joined in with their blows.

  “WAIT! WAIT!” Ted screamed. “I’ll talk, I’ll TALK!”

  Roland and Clutch both held Mud Dawg back.

  “Speak” Roland yells.”

  “I was at Delaney’s’, the bar over on 8th and 22nd street,” he touches his bleeding face. “Nikko approached me.” His eyes dart around to the faces of each man. “All he asked was that the next time I loan the truck to the club for your pickups, let him know. That’s it. He paid me two grand. One when he offered me the deal and the other grand was in my mailbox the next morning. I don’t even know how he knew where I live.”

  “Do you have a way to reach him?” Clutch asked as he kicked him in the side.

  “It was a pre-pay, it’s doesn’t work anymore. I tried calling him after I heard what happen.”

  Clutch struck Ted in the face. “Who did they sell our merchandise to?”

  Ted shook his head. “I don’t know. All Nikko asked me about was the truck.”

  “We need more info than that!” Roland booted Ted in the nuts.

  Ted threw one hand up to protect his face and another to cover his groin. “I swear, that’s’ all I know. I didn’t know that anything else was going to go down. I wouldn’t have done that to you.” He pleadingly looked over at Mud Dawg. “I’m cool with the club. I didn’t think it would be something like that. That’s why I bailed. I went down to Florida, where my sister lives till after Norton was buried.”

  “What did you think he wanted the information for?” Clutch heard a crack as he landed a solid fist to Ted’s face.

  Roland kicked Ted in with his heavy black boots as Mud Dawg punched him several more times. Mud Dawg stopped his assault and began searching Ted’s house again. His anger neared being fr
enzy when he entered the attached garage. His heavy boots scraped across the concrete in the garage. He found what he needed in the corner, a can of gasoline. He picked up the container, it felt light in his hand, but it is enough to get the job done.

  Heading back into the house, Mud Dawg ignored his limp as he pushes Clutch to the side. He tosses the gas in the direction of the barely conscious Ted. Then he pulls out his lighter.

  “Are you trying to set us on fire?” Roland screamed at Mud Dawg. “You got more of that shit on us than on him. Calm the fuck down!” Roland shoved him away from Ted. He had to admit to himself that at times Mud Dawg and his rage unnerved even him. He’s told him more than once that he needed to stop letting it all build up inside of him. Mud Dawg has been that way since he was a little boy.

  He's cocky, stubborn and once he's set on something, it's difficult to change his mind. When the relationship with Lois, Mud Dawg mother ended. Eric ran away from home and back to the clubhouse so much that by the age twelve, Lois gave him custody of Eric

  Mud Dawg glared at Roland with confusion. It felt as if something had overtaken him and he didn’t understand the logic behind what is being said to him.

  He needs to stop the sympathetic stares. The scars, the limp, having everyone looked at him like he’s fragile. He knew that they felt that he's not worthy of wearing the Revelators colors. The cut that he earned through loyalty and respect for the brotherhood. He had to show them, especially Roland and Clutch that he’s still one of them.

  Roland reached over and took the lighter from Mud Dawg. “Not like this. Think it though.”

  Mud Dawg reluctantly nods as he glared down at Ted.

  “Tell us something that we can use or I’ll turn the Dawg loose on you!” Roland smirked.

  Clutch smirked. “You don’t want that bro, trust me. He’s got all kinds of fucked up anger issues.”

  Ted wept as he wracked his brain for something that would save his life. “I don’t know if it’s true. I heard that the Jones brothers were working with a third person.”

  “Who!” Roland yells as he stomps up and down on his stomach.

  “I… I DON’T KNOW!” Ted cried. “I just heard that someone else approached them about stealing the drugs. The person, whomever it is, wants to abolish the Revelators. No drugs, no money, no club.”

  “Is it the Filthy Vicious?” Clutch continued the interrogated.

  “I don’t know, I’m sorry, I really don’t know.” Ted buried his face into the carpet and wept.

  “Dude, get a pair of balls, shit!” Mud Dawg turn to Roland. “He’s taking the fun out of this. He’s not even trying to fight back. He’s a pussy. I want a fight. A good fight. He’s just given up.”

  “Go for it bro, he’s all yours!” Roland said as he and Clutch took a step back. “Put him out of our misery.”

  “Snitches, a dying breed,” Clutch chuckles.

  Mud Dawg reaches inside his cut and pulls a gun from his holster. Then he took the silencer from his front pocket. A sinister smile covers his face as he attached the silencer. He didn’t hesitate as he squeezed the trigger.

  He looks intently at the body. Nothing. He didn’t feel any better. He’d hope for some kind of a release. He needed something. He craved something to fill the void. To make him feel like his old self again and this wasn’t it.

  “Delany’s Bar, we’ll put Boost on it, he’s Noma. No one knows him around here.” Roland smacked Mud Dawg on the shoulder.

  Mud Dawg nodded as he places his weapon back into its holster.

  Clutch shook his head as he eyed Mud Dawg, “You need a psych doctor,” he joked. “One shot to the head.” He points his index finger to his own head. “That’s all it takes bro.”

  “I ride a motorcycle. I don’t need a psychiatrist to help me clear my head.” Mud Dawg laughed.

  Chapter Two

  “This is a horrible idea” Seville argued.

  “I thought about it all week. This is the only time I’ll know where he’s at for sure. If I don’t do it now, I might never have another chance.”

  “I’m not going with you.” Seville said as she sat down on the bed. She shook her head as she looked at Chanel, she’s crazy. “Someone has to be alive to make sure they put a good picture of you on the back of the milk carton. I’ll wait here till you come home or until you’ve been missing for forty-eight hours? Isn’t that the time you have to wait for before you can report an adult missing?”

  “I don’t know.” Chanel continues to retry on clothing on from her closet.

  “Black people don’t go to outlaw biker bars. We go to clubs, house parties. Actually, anywhere that you can’t find a bunch of racist, drunk, white people.”

  It’s Chanel turn to shake her head. She glances over at her friend. “You’re so silly. Black people ride motorcycles.”

  “I didn’t say they didn’t. I said black people don’t go to biker bars. Seville sighs and tries another approach. “What are you going to say to him, have you thought about that?”

  Chanel smiled. “I’ve been going over it in my head. When we first notice each other, I’ll smile and walk over to him. Then I’ll say something like fancy meeting you here.”

  “Fancy meeting you here? Lord Jesus. No one talks that way. You don’t even talk that way. You want to know what your problem is?”

  “Nope, but you’re going to tell me anyway.”

  “Damn right I am because I care. You read too much. Those biker novels are fiction. Most women who read them know that, but not you. You want to make it a reality. Bikers are like firemen, military men, doctors, billionaires. Why can’t you just read the novel, have your fantasy, then go screw the guy who’s in bed with you. That’s how life works. It’s safer that way.”

  Chanel rolls her eyes as she grabs another skirt and holds it up to her waist. “I read nonfiction biker books too. The true crime books about different outlaw motorcycle clubs.”

  Seville grunts.

  “I know that I won’t use the term fancy, but it’ll be something like that. I haven’t worked out all the details yet. I’m hoping that’ll come naturally for the both of us.”

  “Then what do you expect to happen?” Seville moans with worry again.

  “Then we’ll chat, we’ll flirt.” Chanel smile grew wide.

  “Then you bang him in the bathroom at the bar. You need to work on your sexual fantasies. Bathrooms are nasty, especially if it’s in a public place. People pissing all over the floor, puking.”

  Chanel squints her eyes at Seville. “What kind of places are you going to where people have peed on the floor and threw up? See, this is why I don’t go anywhere with you.” She laughed.

  “Ha, ha.”

  Chanel shrugged. “I’m trying to be realistic. Bar, booze, sex, it happens all the time. I do hope the bathroom is dirty, that’ll make it even more erotic. You know filthy sex in a filthy bathroom.”

  “You got some serious issues.” Seville rubs her temples. She’s starting to get a headache. “What if he’s with someone? Maybe his wife or girlfriend was at work during those times he had physical therapy? It could be she couldn’t drive him so those women did it for her. They could be her friends."

  “No, they're owned by the club. So shut up and stop trying to ruin my moment.”

  “Owned by the club? Oh yeah, that sounds like someone that would be great to be in a relationship with… not!”

  “You need to stop!”

  “The reality of the situation sucks huh? You claim he’s a hot biker dude, do you really think he wouldn’t have a woman already?”

  “I don’t think he’s married. He doesn’t have a wife listed on his emergency contact list. He only has his step-father and step brother listed.”

  “You looked through his personal info? Isn’t that a violation of HIPPA since you’re just the check in person?”

  “It’s part of my job to do patient registration. Second, I didn’t look at all it. I just wanted to know who he put down as
an emergency contact. Here, look at this.” She got up from the floor and grabs her cell phone from the dresser. “See, I tried to take a picture of him the other day when he was leaving.” She shows Seville the photo.

  Seville looks at the blurry photo. “So let me get this straight. You played paparazzi and took this unclear photo of him because you were too scared to ask him to take a picture. Yet you’re going to walk into a biker bar tonight and try to fuck him in a bathroom, correct?”

  “Yeah, and I know it sounds screwed up, but whatever… don’t judge me!” Chanel broke out into laughter. “I thought if I asked for a picture it would sound creepy, like I was stalking him or something.” Chanel walks back over and began searching through her closet again.

  “You are stalking him.” Once again Seville shakes her head with distress.

  “I have to try. She glances back over her shoulder at Seville then to the closet floor again for a pair of shoes. “I spent five years in a bad marriage. I’ve been on countless horrible dates since my divorce three years ago. Remember that icky guy Tyler, whom I only dated for a month a year and a half ago? Creepy man still keeps sending me messages on Facebook and trying to get me to snapchat. Do you know how I spend a lot of my evening and weekend lately?” She turns around to face Seville. “Binging out on Netflix and when I get bored with that I look at porn and masturbate. How fucking pathetic is that?” Chanel spins back around and focuses on looking for a pair of shoes she hopes she still had. “I want him even if it’s just a quickie in the bathroom or somewhere. I want to slut it up because it’s my life and I want to do what I want to do and stop fantasizing about it. I want to throw caution to the wind. I want Eric Hardy.”

  “What are you going to do if he turns you down?”