REAPER: GOLDEN SKULLS M.C. by Rebecca Joyce (elon musk reading list TXT) 📗

me along, forcing me to follow her. The smell of fresh wildflowers wafted around me, pushing past the pungent odor of the air around me.

“Max.”

Her voice.

What was she doing here?

She can’t see this.

I can’t let her see me like this.

“Max, breathe.”

I tried to see her, to find her in the darkroom.

“Breathe with me, Max. Take a deep breath—your safe. You’re with me, in the clubhouse. Open your eyes Max. See me.”

Doing as she said, I opened my eyes and stared into her beautiful green eyes, and when she smiled, I grabbed her, hugging her tightly to me as she wrapped her arms around me.

My body was shaking. I couldn’t believe the flashback came so quickly. In the beginning, when I was released from the hospital, my parents insisted that I speak with someone, anyone. When I refused, my mother forced me. The therapist I saw had told me that I would have moments like this. That for no reason whatsoever, I would find myself back in that metal cage, fighting for my life. At first, she said my flashbacks would be often, that any little thing would set me off. Over the years, they diminished but hadn’t truly gone away. Stress was my biggest culprit, followed by lack of sleep and no sex. Well, not sex itself, but the physical release of endorphins. When I was younger, my Pops would take me to the gym. He enrolled me in karate, boxing, anything that would force me to focus on the task at hand and get me out of my head.

It worked for a while, then I found sex.

Sex for me was not only pleasurable, but the calm feeling I got after getting my nut was way better than beating the shit out of someone. So, I used sex as my crutch to get my head right. And it worked too…for a while. However, over the last year or so, I needed and craved the euphoric feeling that was no longer viable. Then came the physical touch. I couldn’t pinpoint precisely when it happened, but sometime over the last year, my ability to have a woman touch me had become vile and extremely painful. Which was why Hellhound had started getting me submissives, who were trained to obey. At first, they worked, not anymore.

Yet, for no reason at all, I found myself standing in the hallway leading to the kitchen, wrapped in Remi’s embrace. Where I thought I’d feel repulsion, I felt acceptance. There was no anger, no thoughts of hurting her, no desire to punish her.

It was Remi, her scent, her goodness, her kind nature, and just like that, my flashback turned into something worse. The biggest fucking hardon ever. Fuck! There was no middle ground. Only highs and lows. The lows sucked monkey dicks, but the highs were driving me fucking crazy. She was just hugging me, trying to help me, and instead of accepting that simple gesture, I was now perving over her. My thoughts turned vulgar and downright raunchy as I imagined ripping her clothes from her body and feasting on every inch of her. I wanted to stick my tongue deep in her cunt and suck her nectar straight from her core. I wanted to mark her body as I kissed every inch of her. I wanted to stick my cock so deep within her and never come out. I wanted to consume her, invade every inch of her, as she writhed beneath me, screaming my name.

I needed to move before she felt my hard cock rub against her. Thankful as fuck that no one else was around, I removed myself from her embrace and took a step back.

“You okay?”

“Yeah,” I said, rubbing the back of my neck. “I don’t know what happened. Sorry, you had to see that.”

“Max, you don’t need to explain to me.”

“Did you need something?”

“Well, I was wondering if I could go to the store. I need some things, and as much as I love wearing your clothes, I really do need bras and panties.”

Fuck me.

She was commando. My mind churned with thoughts of yanking down my sweats from her body. Seeing her wet glistening pussy, begging me to kiss, suck and devour her. Her hard nipples pushed against my t-shirt, begging me to suck them. My mouth watered.

“Max? You’re making that face again?”

Shaking my thoughts from my head, I muttered, “Huh, what?”

A sly smile formed in the corner of her lips, drawing my attention. “Like I was saying, I need a few things. Think you can take me to the mall?”

“Yeah, sure. No problem,” I said, reaching for my wallet handing her my personal Amex card. “If there are any problems, have them call me. Get whatever you need.”

“I just need a couple of things, not much.”

“Fuck that, Remi. You get whatever you want. I mean it. You have nothing, so I expect lots of bags when you get back. Also, I’m sending Shamrock and Snake with you. For protection.”

“What about you?”

“I can’t. I need to head to one of the clubs to check things out. You’ll be safe with them. Look, I’m already running late. We can catch up later. Just stick close to Snake and Shamrock. They look mean as hell but are completely harmless.” I said, turning to walk out the nearest door.

SEVEN

REMI

Harmless, my ass.

The two men standing before me were anything but. Shamrock was a bulging six foot three, with Celtic tattoos everywhere there should be. His head shaved on both sides highlighted an intricate braid that went down the middle to a long tail that fell past his waist. His eyes were literally the steel color, making him look more like a marauding Viking than a biker.

As for Snake, well, he was something scary and everything in between. Tall and lean, I couldn’t find an ounce of fat on him, and like Shamrock, the man was also covered in tattoos. His hair, buzzed short on his scalp, didn’t