THE WILD FIEND'S

FIEND POV

Leaning my back in my chair, I hiss a couple of times, and a loud curse spill from my lips like I'm in some kind of chanting trance or some shit.

The bitch knows what she's doing.

I growl, burying a hand in her hair and forcing her expert lips to suck harder against my fully erectic cock.

Christ, I understand why my fucking Vice president recommended her to me last night, she looks like a fucking vacuum cleaner.

And yet, it's not enough for me.

It's not enough for me that I had a night of debauchery with the party that my damn secretary insisted on organizing to welcome our brothers from the Detroit branch.

I drank enough alcohol to sedate a horse and fucked everything that came my way, until, when I was about to fall unconscious in some corner, that bastard Dereck appeared with a shit-eating smile and introduced me to "one of his exclusives."

He assured me that he would give me a championship blowjob and now I know that he wasn't putting on act, I'll take note of that.

If u satisfy me in that aspect.

The bitch is sweet, I must admit.

Although, in the end, the only thing that interests me about her is her wet pussy that is ready to give me access.

As soon as she finishes, I push her aside roughly, standing up with my blood roaring with excitement, and before she can even drink alcohol that is dulling her body, she is still on her knees; I pick her up and position her face down on my table.

Maybe I'm too drunk to remember, but she asked me to fulfill her sexual fantasy of riding her on the presidential table, with my presidential vest on that sinful little body.

I agreed.

Who am I to deny her that wish? After all, we both agreed.

I fulfill her wishes by fucking her until she forgets her name as I have done.

Do you want me to ride on you? I mumble bluntly, knowing that she will go crazy with my words.

Her red hair spilling across the table gives me the answer as she stands up to capture my lips between hers with drunken giggles, and I push her away, fed up.

I hate foreplay.

She lays still for me, growing wetter and wetter even though I've barely touched her, and then she begins to massage her enhanced breasts lasciviously as I rip her underwear in two and stroke my hard cock in my hands, ready to spring into action.

She spreads her legs wider to give me full access, inviting me to play with her body as I please.

A smile spread across my face, and with one thrust, I penetrated her forcefully, eliciting a sound halfway between a scream and a moan as my cock entered her.

As I increase the pace of my thrusts with a brutality that brings her to orgasm even sooner than expected, her cheeks turn red with excitement and she clings to me like a limpet.

The most annoying part.

I thrust even harder, filling her sexual desires with my cummin and enjoying the way she screamed my name.

I grab her hair tighter and make my way to her breasts to bite and taste them, without stopping the friction against her pussy, faster and faster, more urgent.

God, fiend, was the president of the club"I'm yours.

Do whatever you want to me she moans, ecstatic, while the thrusts become increasingly rough and wild.

And if I wasn't so busy tasting her pussy I would have burst out laughing.

They all want to get me; they know that my position would get them everything they wanted and no one would dare downgrade them as the whores that they are.

They forget that they bring it on themselves, and I continually have to remind them of their place.

But it's worth how annoying some of the older girls are in exchange for a good fuck like this.

I needed it after so much war and so many problems to solve that we've had lately in the club.

Wearing this badge is not easy.

Many would kill to be in my position, but they have no idea of the responsibilities that come with being the president of one of the most feared outlaw clubs in all of Washington.

I have only been in power for a year, and it already feels like ten, but I feel very honored by the trust my brothers placed in me by voting for me and every day, I strive not to let them down.

I have never been a man of responsibility; however, now everything has changed and I am exactly where I want to be.

The bitch continues to moan beneath me as I cum inside her with all my power until she runs out of strength.

Two loud knocks echo on the door and I let out a groan of annoyance as I realized that the fun is over and responsibilities are knocking on my door again.

Too early, I haven't slept a shit, the hangover is starting to take its toll on me and now that I've let out my most primitive instincts, I feel empty.

I need a bottle of whiskey and my cigarettes to face the new day properly.

More knocks, this time more urgent.

Through the fog that dulls my mind, I recognize the voice of my treasurer, Zack, waiting behind the door.

He knows i only come in here to fuck or when I want to be alone.

Unceremoniously, I roll off the bitch and pull on my pants, massaging my crotch with satisfaction.

Then I look at her, expressionless.

Get dressed and get out of here, I order, coldly.

She doesn't argue, knowing better than to test my patience.

I didn't earn my reputation as the most feared in all of Washington for nothing. So she just shuts her mouth gets dressed and walks out of the door.

I stare at her round ass when she turns her back to me, the way she stumbles.

Damn, I hit her so hard she can barely walk.

I smile and in a powerful voice, I tell the tall man with a thick, ruddy beard waiting outside to get the hell here.

As soon as I see his face, I know that he has very bad news for me and that any good mood I might have had while fucking that redheaded whore is going to disappear in seconds.

What the fuck do you want, Zack? It's not even six in the morning — I protest, taking a huge gulp of the tequila I find on the messy shelves.

For now, this will do.

President, I'm sorry to bother you, he sighs, running a hand through his beard.

He looks embarrassed, that's strange.

The guy is as cool as an iceberg and rarely loses his composure.

He never argues, has no scruples, and doesn't ask questions.

That makes him one of my most trusted men.

That's why the fact that you're like this only increases my suspicions so I demand that you start talking already.

All the suspense is giving me a headache.

Damn, boss, we've got problems, I've already warned the other brothers...

Suspicions confirmed, if he wakes them up after the bacchanal we threw last night, something is seriously wrong.

Before he can say anything else, I pull out my Swiss Army knife from my desk drawer and my precious Walther as I stand up, ready for whatever comes next.

Let it go already, Zack — I snapped.

He doesn't make himself beg.

We have been robbed.

My muscles tense, my eyes threaten to pop out of their sockets and my breathing condenses.

I clench my fists, suppressing the urge to smash everything in front of me, I have to think with a cool head.

But my temper gets out of control and I can't suppress the wave of anger that overwhelms me.

I end up roaring after overturning the table with little effort and I stand just a few centimeters away from his impassive face, breathing like a runaway bull.

I've been robbed in my fucking club...