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Lady Guardians: Cut: Nationals by Xyla Turner (1)

Gianni “Cut” Simpson

Allen’s Bar & Grill

“Fuck, he’s about to tear up my bar again,” was the first thing I heard when I walked in and saw the bartender jump over the table with a wooden bat in hand.

Oh great, a fight.

I knew this bar was a good choice when searching for a bar outside of Jude’s in Reading, Pennsylvania. Justice, the president of the National Lady Guardians, just purchased it from Phil. It had become our official club bar, but I never shit where I ate, so I would often frequent other establishments if I was looking to get laid. Goldie, the treasurer of the club, never understood why I did this. She, of course, could give a single fuck about men hassling her because the woman had no problem with shutting guys down. I, on the other hand, did not need to encounter old conquests in my streets asking for more or even being a temptation to my rule of one and done.

In the dimly lit bar, several men were surrounding one guy and since I was late to the party, it was unclear why they were about to jump him. What I did know was that it was an unfair fight to me. With my hand itching to grab my retractable baton from its holster on my belt, I moved closer because I was not opposed to jumping in on the action. I did not like bullies, and I was never one to sit around while injustice was taking place. This is what made me want to be a part of the Phoenix Riders before the motorcycle club, Legion of Guardians adopted us – who were now called the Lady Guardians. They stood for justice, we were trained in hand-to-hand combat, we stood up for the little people, and this is what made the club attractive to most of the members. Besides Maslow Hierarchy of Needs, people wanted to feel safe and belong to something. This is what the Lady Guardians provided. A sense of safety.

“I’m warning you,” the man in the middle growled.

Damn, he was about to get fucked up by these burly ass dudes. The bartender was already moving people out of his way to get to the center to instruct folks to leave. They weren’t listening to him since their focus was on the guy in the midst of them talking much shit.

“Okay,” the guy in the middle growled again. One man rushed him and he threw him like he was a rag doll. I could not get a good look at him, but the way the body of his first victim hit the other guys like a bowling ball hitting pins. I was impressed. The consequence of those men falling opened the path so I could see what this crazy ass guy looked like.

Well, damn.

He sounded nothing like his voice and was not super bulky like his strength displayed. The man looked like a regular guy with a slight edge to him. Short, cropped dirty blond hair, with a limited amount of facial hair. His features were sharp, yet strikingly handsome.

There was something in his hand causing him to bend at the waist, holding onto whatever was in his grasp. I couldn’t hear what the other men were yelling about, but whatever was in his hand, he wasn’t trying to let it go even though the men continued to surround him.

“Back the fuck up!” he growled again and this time they listened.

Even the bartender watched as the guys took cautious steps towards the exit. It was then that I saw the guy in the middle had his fist full of fabric, but as I looked closer, there was a man under him with his foot on his neck.

Whew, that was some kamikaze shit.

As the men started filing out of the bar, he began to drag the guy he had a grip on to the door. This dude was unconscious. Literally deadweight. When he got to the door, the crazy man threw him out with a warning. “Get his ass to a hospital soon. You fellas have a nice evening.”

Then this motherfucker saluted them and turned around, looking as if he was pleased with himself. He was alone in this thinking because the bartender pointed the bat at him and said, “That’s the second time you did that shit. I ought to toss you out too.”

“Who me?” The man said in mock innocence.

He had that Boy Scout look and charm to him, but he was a wolf in sheep’s clothing. The dangerous kind that had long ago mastered the art of playing every game where he came out winning. A cunning motherfucker, and I knew that kind well. Hell, I was one myself and had been raised by the best of them.

My father was a double agent for two different companies in the United States. His loyalty was for the greater good, and he was a ‘by any means necessary’ type of guy. The man literally taught us how to be spies. Our fun and games growing up were learning about espionage that graduated to actual toys, technology for gadgets, picking locks, deciphering codes, learning how to read body language and lips. My brothers went to schools across the country, but I stayed close and went to Drexel University for my Engineering Degree. Then I attended the University of Pennsylvania for my Master’s Degree in Forensic Science. I went through the police academy, did a couple of years in uniform and then decided to start my own private investigation company because there were way too many rules on the force. My brother, Elijah went into the Navy. Todd joined the Marines and Luke, he was like me and started his own bounty hunting agency in Virginia. It was four years ago when I found the motorcycle club and I’ve been with this group ever since. I worked my way up to the Secretary under Roe and Vice President under Justice. I was not looking for any of the titles or positions, but both presidents saw that I meant what I said and said what I meant with my allegiances to a better world by standing up for those that could not. I wasn’t above breaking a law to do it either. Unlike Justice, my job wasn’t in corporate America and I came from a house of spies. So, our primary goal was never to get caught.

“Yeah, your fucking ass.” The bartender quipped.

“Aww, leave him alone,” the waitress who came from behind the bar for the first time said, “He was defending my honor.”

“By fucking up my gotdamn bar?” His beefy head turned around to look at the skanky waitress.

“He shouldn’t have put his hands under her skirt.” The handsome guy said while still standing at the door. “I don’t like shit like that.”

“Yeah, but you fucked up my bar again, it will be your last.” The bartender withdrew his bat from the man’s direction and asked, “What do you want to drink?”

The cunning man at the entrance smiled and replied, “Whatever’s on tap.”

It was then that his head swiveled towards me, then he winked. I ignored that and made my way to the other side of the bar, pushing my baton back into my holster. The waitress, who looked like her jean skirt didn’t leave much room for anyone to have their hand up it, sidled up to him while the rest of the customers settled back into their seats.

“Can I get a glass?” I asked the mousier waitress that was on my end of the bar.

“Sure thing,” she murmured.

Settling on my stool, the leather stretched at my thighs, and I hoped they didn’t rip. They were my lucky pants, and I had them for close to four years. They fit me like a glove and even though I was a smaller form, they still were worn near the seams on the inside. My bike boots weren’t as worn since I didn’t always ride everywhere. My cut was under my jean jacket, which was usually on display, but I wasn’t trying to advertise that I was far away from my clan. Everyone knew of the Legion of Guardians and after making local attention earlier last year with Justice and her Old Man, they knew of the Lady Guardians too. For some people, this could bring comfort, but to the other clubs, not so much. This is another reason why Justice wanted us to have our own bar so we, as a group, could be safe while having fun.

The waitress returned with a sweating glass of beer and said, “This is from the guy down there.”

One of my eyebrows rose, then I leaned forward to see the same crazy man. The very one that just threw another guy with one arm like he was swatting a gnat and then dragged another unconscious man to the door. All because he was claiming he put his hand under the waitress’ skirt. Yes, he was indeed looking my way.

He could get it.

“Tell him I said thanks, but no thanks.” I smiled and placed a twenty-dollar bill on the shiny wooden finish.

The woman gawked at me and whispered, “But, he’s cute.”

“Yeah,” I agreed with a short nod. “He is.”

Poor girl, she had a lot to learn, I thought. I figured the gig was probably new for her. Working in a bar made you tough as nails. Hence, the other waitress dressing like she was advertising things she was likely giving out. She was not fazed by the attention or the events that surrounded her, but that incident happened in front of the wrong guy.

“Mmkay,” she muttered, nabbed the money and delivered the message.

Less than a minute later, I saw someone coming my way and I knew right away it had to be the rogue.

“No thanks, huh?” His voice was still too rough for his boyish looks, but that just meant it betrayed his real nature.

“I’m sure that’s what I said,” I didn’t even turn to greet him and took another sip of my beer that I had just paid for.

“You’re opposed to a man buying you a drink or just scared you might just get bit?” He leaned in slightly so only I could hear him.

This had me swiveling around to look him square in the face.

“No,” I lifted a shoulder. “I just know that your adrenaline is high since you think you’re the Alpha that just won the pissing contest, but that won’t help me.”

A glint in his eye told me he knew I was right. This man was not charming, but savage as fuck.

“How would that not help you?” He asked and moved in closer so his thighs were touching my knees.

“When a man’s adrenaline is high, like yours is right now,” I nodded in his direction, “It makes you cum faster than I would like. I had a rough week and have a lot of energy that I’d like to burn off and the ten minutes you have to give, just won’t work for me tonight.”

I stared right back at him and kept a straight face because I meant exactly what I said. Instead of responding to me, he went into his back pocket, nabbed his wallet and dropped two bills on the counter.

“Cashing out,” he leaned over the counter, yelled and pointed to the money. Then the rogue turned back towards me and said, “I’ll show you ten minutes.”

I shrugged, took another pull from my beer and stood.

“Meh, I might give you fifteen, max.” I shared before leaving the bar with him trailing me.

He scoffed, but once I exited the bar, he asked, “Your place then?”

“Fuck no,” I kept going towards my bike. “There’s a motel a mile away.”

“Not fucking you in a motel,” he growled as I mounted my bike in the midst of the row of bikes on the side of the building.

The parking lot wasn’t empty, but most of the cars and trucks were parked near the front, and all the bikes were stationed in one place.

“Do you know how to follow?” The man was being sarcastic, but I pulled on my helmet, turned on the ignition, put it in first gear before pressing the front brake and clutch at the same time.

This caused a skidding of my wheels against the gravel and a message to him. I knew how to handle my bike and follow, if I needed.

“In a few, I’m going to be making myself cum if you don’t come on.” I yelled back through my helmet.

“You can still do that if you know how to follow?” He walked a few steps and mounted a Harley Dyna Wide Glide. This was, again, for a guy that could get away with wearing khakis and Vans, he didn’t seem as rugged of a man to ride a Dyna. He intrigued me, but not more than a quick ride or two. Like always, I gave the two-finger goodbye salute.

The man’s bike started, then he peeled out, but not before he yelled, “Let’s see how good you are on top?”

This caused me to smirk as I followed the rogue. He went through a few loops and rounds but didn’t drive so fast that he was reckless, but fast enough that an inexperienced rider would not have been able to keep up.

The rogue pulled up to a nice stand-alone brick house a couple of towns over where he backed in his bike outside of the garage. I parked mine on the street across from him. He stood with his legs shoulder-length wide apart with his head turned looking at me with a weird look.

“Don’t want to be seen with me, is that it?” He asked.

“Not really.” I walked up the driveway to stand in front of him. “I don’t need your bitches fucking with my bike.”

At that, he burst out laughing and headed towards the door.

“Woman with no name,” he called, “You’re fucking hilarious.”

“Hmm,” I murmured as I took in my surroundings.

The first rule of understanding your layout is observation. Observe your environment, identify all exits, potential barriers, suspicious marks, and your perceived enemy.

The rogue let himself in the house and then opened the door wider for me.

“I promise, I’ll bite,” he said with a wolfish smile.

“That’s not my concern,” I nodded as I entered his house.

“Drink?” he offered as he closed the door.

“Naw,” I said as I took off my cut and jacket at the same time so it wouldn’t show.

The man nodded and said, “Action happens up here then.”

He turned towards the right side of the house, toed off his boots at the bottom of the stairs and then walked up. I did the same and followed him in the first door to the right. The bathroom door was open with the light on as it illuminated the hallway.

As soon as I cleared the bedroom door, I was pushed against the wall where my mouth was covered by his. Half of my brain thought I was being attacked because I hadn’t expected the rough treatment, but then I felt his hands on my hips pulling me into him, which allowed me to feel his hard dick against my stomach. That shit was huge too and again, this man was a walking oxymoron. Except now, that layer underneath him, what I’d seen at the bar, was at the surface.


I pushed him and turned around so that he was the one against the wall and I kissed him. It was then that I heard the growl. Somehow, I ended in his arms with those giant hands gripping my thighs, and just like he did with the guy that attacked him, the man threw me on the bed as if I weighed nothing. I was immediately pinned as the rogue pounced right away and began to attack of my mouth again, then he moved down to my neck and released one of my wrists to pull up my T-shirt. There, he squeezed one of my breasts, causing a yelp from me.

Abandoning my other wrist, he moved further down my body where he then kissed up from the belly button to the breastbone. Then he bit one of my nipples over the slightly padded brassiere, bringing it to a dull pain. The hot lava then dripped through my body reaching the core, which intensely grew.

A moan escaped and this seemed to spur the rogue on even more. He did the same thing to my other nipple before he removed the bra and t-shirt. He feasted on my large C-cups as I continued to drown under his talented tongue and those fucking teeth. My hands held his head to my chest as my legs opened and welcomed him inside.

The man kissed his way down to my belly button again, but this time he undid my buckle and had me bare below the waist before I even realized he was diving in head first.

Holy fuck!

That mouth latched onto my wet pearl and I nearly combusted on the spot. My leg wrapped around his neck as I pulled his head in further.

“Damn,” I hissed out loud.

I usually wasn’t a talker, moaner or any of that, but this man was better than I expected. He knew exactly what he was doing and I scolded myself for underestimating him in these areas. When his finger joined the party, I was rubbing my center all over his face as I was helping him bring me to an orgasm. He had another idea and pinned me down to the bed as he flicked my nub until I was yelling out in pure pleasure.

He kissed his way back up to my mouth, but his fingers stayed where they were as the pressure continued to build.

“You’re sweet as fuck,” he growled.

“You’re a silver-tongued devil,” I replied.

He smirked as he hovered over my face.

“Is that why you’re waking up my elderly neighbors?” His smirk was arrogant, just like him.

His teeth nipped my lip. “It’s okay. I got more where that came from. Plus, they wear hearing aids.”

He said that right before he pinched my clit and I yelled out again. This time he used his mouth to kiss and absorb all of my noises. Damn, he was fucking good.

The man moved from over me as I recovered from my second orgasm. He stripped, grabbed and opened a condom, and slid it on. That dick of his was a pretty one. It was nice and curved, long enough to hit my G-spot, and thick enough to stretch me out.


He laid back on the bed and said, “Told you I was testing those driving skills. Hop on, Warrior.”

He didn’t have to tell me twice. I hated a man humping and grunting like he was doing something. If he was doing something, then it would be me who should be wailing and writhing under him. Since it was my general rule and I planned to win the internal bet of him coming within fifteen minutes, I turned around so my back was facing him, cowgirl style, and aligned his sheathed-covered dick with my dripping heat and slid down on that thick cock of his. As my walls grew accustomed to him, I lifted and began to move up and down on him. With a half turn of my body, my hand parked on top of my ass as I started to shake it all over as I fucked him.

He was no longer a silver-tongued, cocky bastard. No, he was mouth-wide open, fingers were white-knuckling the sheets and mouth twisted with unreleased energy. I rode him faster and even switched positions so he got the full show of my ass riding him, and I could see his every reaction. It was when I bent over and began to pound on his hard dick that he knifed up, wrapped a long arm around my stomach to stop me.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” he murmured as he pulled me up. “Give a man one minute, gotdamnit.”

I almost laughed but rose so that my back was to his chest.

“Underestimated you,” the rogue growled as he squeezed my breast. “Rough week, you say?”

“Real rough,” I squeezed my core together and he nipped my shoulder with his teeth. “It’s only been seven minutes.”

“Counting, Warrior?” He nipped me again, causing me to jerk forward.

But he was no slouch as he began to move me up and down on his long dick. The man set the tempo, but eventually, I started to feel it more and took back over, as I jumped up and down on his hard cock repeatedly. It wasn’t until he was holding both breasts as he tried to continue to guide me, but it was too late. I came hard again, which slowed me down and then he started rubbing my clit once I built up my momentum again, causing me to come again. This also made me slow down and then it was over the fifteen-minute mark and by the time I started to bounce my ass on his cock, he had my hair in a fisted ponytail meeting me thrust-for-thrust.

“Fuck me,” he hissed. “Naughty ass girl.”

This spurred me on and I slammed on him and that is when I heard the roar that had me on my knees because he moved like a panther, changing our positions with my head in the bed and him pounding behind me.

“Holy shit,” I murmured in the sheets. “Fuuuuck.”

He came hard and I followed him again.


I collapsed on this bed and he remained behind me until I felt the bed shift, assuming he was going to get rid of the condom. When he returned, he stood in the doorway and said, “I’m not sure if I should stick with Warrior or wildcat as your name.”

I shrugged and rolled over to the side of the bed.

“Where you headed?” he inquired.

“Got shit to do.” I turned to tell him.

“We’re not done. You had a rough week and that was only twenty minutes. This time, I’m shooting for forty. Think you can handle that?” He asked.

I smirked and shook my head. The man was full of shit. Before I could tell him so, he was back between my legs, head first and on his knees bringing me to yet another orgasm.

Come to find out, he wasn’t full of shit and the forty minutes was of me moaning, scratching and biting his shoulder. When the sun came up, like clockwork, I rose and was gathering my clothes when I heard, “Leaving?”

He was up.

“Yeah, got shit to do.” I shared as I pulled my shirt over my head.

“Yeah, well, before you go, let me get another taste of that sweet pussy.” He growled. “Your shit will still get done.”

I swear my inner core squeezed with anticipation of what I knew he could do. Shit, I needed to get away from this man, he could be addictive.

“I’m sure my poor pussy needs a break. You just stopped about an hour ago.” I told him, as I swiped my bra off the floor.

“I’ll give it a break,” he murmured before he was out of bed stalking towards me.

This time, I saw him coming and knew he planned to toss me on the bed, so at the last minute, I moved out of the way and did one of his numbers and pushed him against the wall and got in his face.

“What did you have in mind?” I whispered against his lips.

“Fuck, woman.” His eyes were wide, but then he turned into the predator again as he changed our position just as quickly as a panther.

“I changed my mind. I want to make that pussy remember it was me who caused that ache.” He growled.

Oh, it knew.

I rubbed myself against him as an invitation and after he swiped the condom off the dresser and pulled it on, he lifted me against the wall and began to fuck me hard with my legs wrapped around his waist. I came within minutes. It was a long twenty minutes before he came with a bite to my shoulder. We stayed like that for another minute until he let me slide down his body so my feet could hit the ground. He went into the bathroom to get rid of the condom, and that was when I made my speedy exit, throwing on clothes as I went down the steps. I did not put my shoes on until I was in the driveway. By the time I made it to my bike is when I heard the creak of the door opening. I was almost scared to look, but I was no punk. I turned and saw the wolf in the door, both arms up, holding onto the side posts with nothing but mischief reflected in his eyes. It was raw, daring, and almost fucking scary. I put my helmet on, turned on my bike, and lifted my hand to give him the two-finger salute. I nodded and then drove off. He just looked on like he had a secret that I didn’t know of.

I’d never find out, either.


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