The Rage: Hell's Disciples MC 3(5)

By: Jaci J

I’m faced with the hottest bitch I have ever seen. Holy fucking shit. I don’t think I have ever met a bitch that could ever compare to the woman standing at the door. For a second I just stare at her like a dumb shit, not even able to speak.

My eyes can’t seem to take her in quick enough. From her face to her fucking body, there is too much perfection to take in at once. She’s that type of bitch you need to take in small doses, ‘cause too much of her could kill a man. She cannot be good for your fucking health.

She has long, golden blonde hair that hangs all around her perfect face. That shit looks shiny, thick, and soft as fuck. She even has those enormous blue doll eyes, long dark lashes, a cute ass nose and glossy pink lips. This bitch has the face of a goddamn angel.

While her face may be of that of an angel, her body is made from sin. It begs to be fucked with all those round, soft curves. Big, beautiful round tits and a sweet ass for days is all I can focus on. Jesus Christ.

The sweet little thing is wearing a pair of ripped up jeans, showing off some serious skin, along with a tight ass black tee. It should be illegal for a bitch to be so goddamn hot.

The most amazing thing about her is that she’s plain in the best fucking way. No makeup, no hair styling, just simple and beautiful. All fucking natural.

“Lilly around?” The girl asks softly and I almost nut in my jeans. That voice is soft, but confident; A voice any man would want to hear say his name while he was fucking this angel. I’ve got to fight for my words. Fight motherfucker, fight!

“Yep. She’s gettin’ fucked right now, so you can wait down here with me,” Her eyes widen a fraction but she nods slowly, letting my words sink in. Yeah baby, I just said that.

“Oh shit, fresh pussy boys,” King hollers, making a beeline for the girl as soon as her beautiful ass is through the door. I’m still trying to pull my shit together enough to walk. That motherfucker has some damn pussy radar, that’s for sure.

“Well, hello there, darlin’. What’s a pretty little thing like you doin’ in a place like this?” He asks, giving her his sleazy ass smile.

Those pink lips crook up into a small, sweet smile of their own, “Not lookin’ for you, darlin’,” she counters with a wink.

“Ha!” I can’t help it. I was not expecting to hear that shit come from those sweet lips. Damn, this bitch just punk’d the fuck out of King. I really like this one.

King’s face is stone, not looking so happy to see her anymore. He hates mouthy bitches.

“Get the fuck outta here, King. This,” I start to say bitch, but that just doesn’t seem right. I don’t know her name so I go for the safe route, “Girl, ain’t here for none of us.”

I guess I should ask , “Name?”

Throwing that long ass hair over her shoulder, she says, “Lailah.”


Stepping out of my car, I slowly take in the huge steel building in front of me. It sits out in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by miles of thick forest, with other buildings dotting the long, gravel driveway. Lilly gave me directions and this is where my GPS has lead me.

Halfway here I wondered if the thing had a glitch, but it’s the only place I’ve seen in the last thirty minutes, so I’m guessing I’ve made it to the right place. I thought of turning around and heading back home several times, but I really don’t want to be there. I would much rather take my chances with the building armored in chain link fences and barbed wire.

I pull up as a man in a leather jacket waves me in. Now my nerves are starting to get the better of me. The lot in front of the building is lined with motorcycles of all varieties; no one bike is the same. The building looks more like a shop, really. Steel and metal mixed with wood and concrete.

Pulling down my mirror, I check my face and I look terrified. Jesus, pull it together girl. Fuck it. Throwing open my door, I pull up my big girl panties and get out of my car. It’s now or never.

I walk up to the only door, assuming it’s the right one because I can hear music and voices coming from inside. Looking back over my shoulder, the man by the gate keeps his eyes on the long dirt driveway. I turn back around and face the door. Shaking my arms out, I roll my neck around my shoulders and give myself the mental pep talk of a lifetime, ‘You can do this. They’re bikers with smart-ass mouths, and so are you. You can totally do this.’

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