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Mason:Inked Reapers MC

By:Heather West

Mason:Inked Reapers MC
Heather West

       CHAPTER ONE



MASON





Tick stared at me from across the bar. What the fuck his problem was I  had no clue, and I didn't give a shit either. The blonde pouring my  drink was my only concern at the moment. Prez was about to call us all  into church and knowing the shit storm that was headed our way, I'd need  that last shot to get through whatever he was going to be laying down.



"Let's go!" Prez bellowed from the doorway of the back room.



Tick slapped me on the back, just as I slammed down the empty shot glass  and gave the bartender a slow wink. "When this is done." I gave a nod  toward the back bedrooms and smiled when she smiled back.



"Keep your dick in your pants long enough to get through this, huh?" Tick growled.



"What's your fucking problem tonight?" We took our seats at the round table, and he shook his head.



"Nothing. I know I'm not gonna like this shit. Something's not feeling  right in my gut." He ran a hand over his freshly shaved head and blew  out a breath.



"Relax." I laughed. "I swear you worry more than a mother hen." I  adjusted my position in my chair and adjusted the hard on in my jeans.  That blonde still lingered in my head. The images of what I would do to  her when church was over flashed through my mind, making my pants even  more of a hindrance. Those thoughts would get me through whatever the  fuck Prez wanted to say.



Tick gave me a wary look. He'd had plenty of those these days, but he  acted as if he'd grown tired of the game, of the life. I've known Tick  since we were kids, growing up in the same apartment building on the  south side of town. Our mothers played cards every Friday night and  worked at the same hair salon during the week. Neither of them were  happy when we chose to join up with the Inked Reapers instead of heading  to trade school or working at the stamping plant. Sure, they wanted  better lives for us than they had, but so did we. Standing on an  assembly line for the rest of my life wasn't what I wanted. The club  made good money, I wanted for nothing- and neither did my mom. She hated  where my money came from, but she still let me pay her rent. I wouldn't  allow her not to anyway; I take care of my family.



"As you all know the cartel has expanded their borders. They're running  their shit right through Lemon Grove and Spring Valley." Our President,  Marcus, leaned back in his chair, propping his hands on his oversized  belly. "I have no desire to go to war with them, we'd never fucking  win." He shook his head over the sad fact. It burned like hell to admit,  but we never would defeat them. Those assholes had more money and more  firepower than all of the Inked Reapers charters in California put  together. "The way I see it, we don't have shit for choices. We can  squabble or we can earn. I say we earn." He paused and looked over at  Charlie.



"We pull together with the Hell's Disciples." The room erupted at the  VP's declaration. Hell's Disciples resided in the next town over, being  forever a thorn in our balls. "Now fucking listen!" Charlie slammed his  hand on the table. "I don't like it either, but if we are going to pull  in profit instead of scraping our dead asses off the street, we need to  move on this deal. The cartel doesn't want to deal with any territory  bullshit, they are willing to give us both the same price. We do a few  runs a month for them, along with the Disciples and we pull twice what  we are dragging in on our own now."



Tick let out a low whistle but kept his face unreadable. Twice the money. Shit. Twice the problems, too.



"The Disciples on board with this?" Jasper, the newest patched member at  the table, watched Marcus. His fingers drummed the table, and if I  hadn't known him, I would have thought he was bored.



"They took their vote last night." Prez nodded. "They see the potential."



"So we just link hands and sing kumbaya cause the cartel says to?" I  finally spoke up. I tried to keep the annoyance out of my voice, but the  look Tick gave me, I could tell I failed. The Hell Disciples were scum.  They ran drugs and guns just like we did, but they made a habit of  leaving bodies behind. No respect for their members or the outside  world. Drugs were dealt to kids outside of schools, girls got picked up  on corners and brought home ruined.



"Yeah." Prez glared me down. I didn't shrink back. "It's that or they  just take over our territory and hand it over to the fucking Disciples  anyway."



The whole thing felt like a pussy deal. We couldn't defend our town so  we were going to have to join the other team. Turning puppet for the  fuckin cartel turned my stomach. "Mason, you need to be on board. You're  our front on this." Charlie pointed at me. "You and Tick there are  going to be running the show over there. Keeping your eyes open for  anything suspicious. I don't trust those fuckers any more than you do,  but we have to make this treaty and get on board with the cartel."                       
       
           



       



"And if they fuck us?" Tick asked.



"If they fuck us, then the treaty's blown. The cartel will back us, but  they have to fuck us first. They will, I know it. When they do, we get  their territory and the full cartel deal."



With nothing left to discuss, we were backed into the corner. Prez  called for a vote. Unanimously, we all jumped into the fire. Fucking  Disciples.



"I told you nothing good." Tick shook his head as we headed out of the  room and into the main lounge. I slapped him on the back trying to get  his attention, but he was already headed in the direction of Massy, a  slender brunette that warmed his bed more nights than not. She wasn't  his old lady, not yet anyway, but she had eyes only for him- and he did  the same for her.



I'd never understand that. Giving up the freedom to stick my dick in  anyone I wanted, for one piece of ass just didn't appeal. Settling down,  that wasn't my thing. The blonde walked toward me, her apron from the  bar long gone, showing her short, black leather skirt and her tight  halter pushing her tits nearly out of her clothes.



"Hey, Mason." Her smile greeted me. Well-versed hands rested on my chest, over my cut. "You mentioned needing me?"



I let out a derisive laugh. "I don't need anyone, woman. But I'll use  you." I gripped her wrist, ignoring her feigned resistance. She'd been  in my bed before, and she wanted back in.



After dragging her to my room, I gave her a little shove to the bed. She  looked at me through her thick eyelashes, biting the corner of her lip.  Knowing it was just a show, my dick got hard anyway. She knew the game,  and I was willing to play.



"Take off those clothes." I ordered her, leaning against the door. I  wouldn't touch her yet, not until she dropped the act and her actions  became real. With a little pout, she unzipped her halter top, letting  her round tits fall out. She dropped the halter on the bed and turned  around while she pulled the zipper down over her ass, revealing her  naked cheeks. "No underwear? Bad girl." I reached for my belt,  delighting in the initial flash of fear in her eyes. Her facade would  break any minute. "Bend over the bed." I nodded toward it and pulled the  leather belt from my jeans.



"Mason-" She started to object, but one look at my eyes, and she  complied. I'd spanked her before, it wouldn't be the first time. Fuck,  probably not the last. She wasn't that into it, didn't like the pain so  much as the hard fucking I'd give her after, but she tolerated it.  Really, what choice did she have? I'm not a complete ass, if she really  didn't want it, I'd keep my dick in my pants and go get someone else.  But she'd take the strapping because she wanted my cock. Which was fine,  I wanted her pussy. Even deal.



"Don't fucking talk." I growled as I moved to stand beside her, belt  looped and aimed. "Don't fucking complain, either. You take every one of  these five licks and when I'm done, you're going to fucking thank me."



"Yes, Mason." Her fingers curled into my blankets, and she rose up onto  her tip toes. Her rounded ass would take the belt nicely; it had before.  She grunted with the first blow, yelped at the second. By the fourth a  nice red streak crossed her cheeks and she was breathing heavily. I ran  my hand over the mark, a nice heat rose from the welt. Her ass wiggled  beneath my hand, and I gave her a sharp slap for it.



"You don't control shit, here." I waited for her nod before I continued  rubbing her ass. My fingers found her pussy, and just like before, it  was dripping for me. I pushed two fingers into her, feeling how hot she  was and looked down at her face. Her eyes were closed, her hands fisted.  She wanted to move, but if she did I'd only delay her pleasure, and she  knew it.

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