Bullet: Devil's Rose MC #5

Chapter 20: Mason Ohara

I grab my cock. I just can't fucking help myself.

My strokes, at first, are not rushed at all. This beginning of my fantasy is slow. Piper's clothes gradually drop to the floor. Her sienna-colored pigmentation becoming more and more exposed to me. Her nipples are tight and slightly reddened from me biting them over her bra. 

My hand moves faster over my cock while my daydream gets worse, or better depending on how I'm looking at this situation. Her tongue travels over the contradicting muscles on my stomach and chest, her teeth dragging over my nipples, sending a shiver down my spine. 

I thrust my hips up, my dick sliding between her wet pussy lips, her arousal leaking onto my upper thighs. I reach up to the apex joining her thighs and let her guide me to her throbbing clit. I feel it pulsing against my fingers as I begin to play with it.

She shows me how she wants it done before I take control.

I grip the side of the shower tighter, releasing a loud and rumbling groan from the back of my throat. Shit, shit, shit. Fuck. Holy fuck, I want her so fucking bad. I want to taste that swollen and sensitive pussy. I want to hear the fucking sounds that'll come out of her. Shit, fuck, shit.

After rolling a condom over my hardened dick, Piper lines her ready and lubricated hole up with my cock. She moans out my name, not holding back the volume of her voice, while she sinks onto me. I grunt out in pleasure as I imagine her vaginal walls clenching and enveloping my cock in warmth. 

Her pussy glides against my lower stomach as she grinds on me. I hold onto her hips and help her get a rhythm, my focus on her completely. With one hand, she plays with her pulsing clit, the other playing with her left nipple, her head tilted back in delight.

My semen explodes from my cock and onto the walls of my shower. I continue stroking myself to allow more to come out of me, watching it swirl down the drain, hoping that my lust for Piper quickly goes with it. It doesn't however. 

Moments later, my cock is fucking hard again, wanting and waiting for me to have some more fun. This time I change the temperature of the water to freezing cold and hiss at the harsh sensation. That's what I fucking get I guess.

I step out of the shower, dry myself off with a towel, and throw on sweatpants to sleep in. As soon as I see my bed, exhaustion fucking fills me. The hardest part is that once I'm in bed, I can't sleep. 

I stare up at the blank ceiling and try all the methods I can think of to shut my eyes and fall asleep. 

Most of the time, I fail, and I end up not sleeping until about one in the morning and get about five hours of a rough, nightmare-filled sleep. So, here I lay, staring up at the ceiling, hoping to any higher power in existence that I don't fucking think.

I wonder what Piper is doing right now.

No, Mason, don't fucking think about her.

I tilt my head to gaze out my bedroom window and watch the stars burning in the bright sky. I want to tell Piper how beautiful I find them. I want her to be laying next to me, her body pressed upon mine and staring up into the sky with me.

***

I'm up early the next morning with a desire to do something. So, I call Poison because he is always doing something. Ever since Dakota and he moved into her childhood home, they've been renovating it like crazy.

They got the kitchen, bathroom, and bedroom done before they even moved in - they spent a couple of months living in Poison's house - but now, they are practically living in a construction zone all the time. With the amount of work they both have to do, it's not like they can dedicate every moment to finishing it. 

But getting them to hire someone to do the dirty work for them has proven to be incredibly difficult. They are calling the process of designing their home the way they want by their own hands their 'healing process.'

While I can get behind them wanting to resolve trauma, rebuilding their house from pretty much nothing is going to take them forever, and they desperately need help. No one said you had to heal from trauma alone. 

My therapist is going to be so proud of the progress I've made by myself. Uh, that's kind of ironic. I have my first appointment at one this afternoon, so I have time before then. And I want to fill it by helping Poison because I'm trying to be better.

"Bullet, good morning. What can I do for you?"

"I was wondering if I could come over to your house and build something for you guys."

"Sure! That was so cool of you! Dakota just left for work, so you're free to do whatever you want without her keeping a watchful eye."

It's not just me she watches, it's everyone (even Alpha). She has very specific dreams and goals for this house, but those dreams can be hard to accomplish when a literal perfectionist is standing behind you.

It's not that Poison and I go off the rails of her plans when Dakota's not around, we get the work done faster when we aren't afraid of his partner's wrath. She can be a really scary woman when she wants to be. Poison loves it though.

"Great. Do you need me to bring anything over?"

"Any tools you have and those gorgeous muscles that we can all stare at."

He never fails to make me smile. I love him. I love him like a true brother.

"We?"

"Uh, yeah, Piper came over this morning to help with the garden. Apparently, she has a green thumb."

Oh fuck, fuck, fuck. I was kind of hoping to avoid her. Not because she did something wrong but because I jacked off to her in the shower last night. I'm not sure I'll be able to function and focus on something else other than her and my intrusive thoughts that have ruined me thoroughly. Fucking hell, even thinking about her makes me hard. Shit on fire.

"Is that okay, Bullet? You're good if she's here?"

"Yep, totally fine," I choke out.

"Alright..."

He doesn't sound convinced.

"I promise, Poison."

"Okay, good. 'Cause I believe that one day your love will flourish."

"Like flowers?"

"Yep! Okay, see you soon?"

"I'll be there in thirty," I say, releasing a sarcastic sigh.

He hangs up the phone without saying goodbye (classic Poison move).

One of these days, I'm going to be one fucking doing it to him.

Within minutes, I've changed into jeans with a black belt, work boots, the old white work t-shirt that I use only for projects, and my beige hoodie that I also only use for projects. 

I load my tools from the garage into my truck - it's a beat-up Nissan and I don't use it very often - and leave my cut in the backseat in case I need it for any reason. As far as I know, I'm not going to get called to do a run or anything, but it's better to be safe than sorry.

It doesn't take long for me to get to Poison and Dakota's house, and when I do arrive, the place is already filled with the MC crew. I guess we were all thinking the same thing. Or it's because Dakota has been complaining about it in the bar for the past three weeks, and we are all over listening to her talk about it. 

I'm pretty sure that's the reason almost everyone is here and working, but I could be wrong. It would be a genius move on her part though.

When I pull up on the opposite side of the street, Tank and Vegas are already making their way toward me. They greet me with a slap to my back and tug the tools out of the bed of my truck. I see Dakota standing in the window, directing the situation. 

Poison's such a liar. He lied to get me to come over; what an evil genius. 

I sling my hoodie over my head and place it on the driver's seat, feeling the heat of the morning by this time. I'm focused on helping Poison and Dakota with their house, walking toward the orchestrator of the whole process (we all know who that is), but then I hear a loud, comforting laugh.

That fucking laugh is ruining me.