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You stood on the stage, taking a deep breath. The club was not yet open for the night, but you had to get your courage up; Hosea had asked you to fill in for the lead singer, who had fallen ill. Staring out at the empty room, you saw your coworkers bustling around, getting the place ready for a busy Friday night. Tilly and Mary-Beth were getting the tables ready. Karen was wiping down the bar with Sean, who snuck a peck on her cheek when he could. You could smell whatever Pearson was cooking in the kitchen. Strauss was probably upstairs doing accounts, and who knew where Swanson was. But he was always back in time for opening, and he was a good host, so you didn’t care.
Everyone else was probably at the other business with the owners, Dutch and Hosea. They were off overseeing one of their other properties; this club was a smaller venue, and probably didn’t bring in as much as their gambling parlour. But still, you liked it here; it was much better than working for the O’Driscolls. You shuddered at the memory.
Over in the back corner were a few of the hitmen of the Van der Linde family: Javier, Charles, and… him .
The head of the Van der Linde’s hitmen, the enforcer, the man who could and would get anything done for the family: Arthur Morgan. Standing in the corner of the room, he looked rather handsome as he leaned against the wall, lighting a cigarette. He wore a brown leather jacket over a blue casual collared shirt, a fedora, trousers, and dark brown oxfords. But you knew what he was capable of; his looks belied a cold, ruthless killer.
You had first met him when the O’Driscolls and the Van der Lindes had a shootout in a club you had been forced to work at for Colm. Hiding under the bar until the smoke cleared, you had curled up into a ball and trembled, even after Arthur had found you and told you that you were safe, that you were free from Colm forever.
With a blood splattered shirt, he had held his large hand out to you, you remembered that he had just strangled a man to death before your eyes, and you started to cry, thinking he’d do the same to you.
Instead, he had gently coaxed you out from under the bar and held you softly, petting your hair and murmuring comforting words as he guided you out of the building and into his car, where he drove you back to your meager apartment. He gave you a card with an address, telling you that if you needed work, the family would take care of you, as long as you were loyal.
And so, here you were. And after three months of working with them, you decided that they were much, much, much better than working for the O’Driscolls.
Your eyes met a certain pair of blue ones, and you quickly looked away. Arthur still scared you a little, even after all this time. Sure, the other men were just as big as he was. But that was just physical; Charles was gentle, though quick to anger at certain subjects. Javier was blunt, but he was charming, and played the most wonderful guitar music.
Arthur, however, was just plain intimidating because he knew how to use his size. The way he stood, the way he walked, revealed a man who knew he could handle anything, who could muscle his way out of a situation if he couldn’t threaten someone to stand down first. He didn’t speak much when he was on duty, and even when speaking normally, he still sounded rather gruff. Although he was kind in his actions; he would run errands whenever requested, and he often asked after everyone’s health.
But he was always gentlest with you. His voice turned to butter, a low, soothing sound when he spoke to you, and you noticed that he only used that tone with you alone. As if he were speaking to a fearful animal, his dulcet tone would seduce you into thinking you were more than just a coworker; for a fleeting moment, whenever the two of you spoke, you thought that perhaps he cared for you in a special way.
Then the conversation would end and the trance was broken, and he’d go back to barking orders. He’d be set up in his corner, watching the club and sending over his men to keep the peace. If things got real dicey, he’d come over himself, and whoever was causing trouble generally wasn’t seen in the club again.
You shook your head to clear your mind of the duality of your thoughts about Arthur. You had to sing. You had to carry the night. Stepping up to the microphone, you took a deep breath and sang one of your favorites. You closed your eyes and felt the song come from within your soul, and let it spill from your lips, your voice wrapping around the room like velvet.
It's that ole devil called love again
Gets behind me and keeps giving me that shove again
Putting rain in my eyes
Tears in my dreams...
Opening your eyes as you finished your song, you scanned the floor. Everyone had stopped working and was staring at you.
“I… S-sorry, I wanted to see what it would f-feel like being center stage, for once,” you stammered, surprised that you had gotten their attention.
Karen erupted into raucous applause, causing the others to clap as well. “That was amazin’, sugar! I can’t believe you haven’t sung solo before!”
You smiled and bowed, then quickly backed away from the microphone, leaving the stage. As you passed Arthur, you felt his gaze upon you, a simmering look that you couldn’t read, but it both frightened you and enticed you. Glancing up at him and then looking away quickly, you nearly ran the rest of the way to the dressing room.
***
Shutting the door and leaning against it, you took a deep breath. Clutching your chest to calm your frantic heartbeat, you took a deep breath. There was no need to be nervous; it was just one night, you could do this. You had sung on this stage for so many nights, it wasn’t going to be any different.
Except you were center now. Everyone’s eyes would be on you.
You remembered Arthur’s look as you left the main room.
Your heart raced again, and you sank to the ground, clutching your knees. You loved to sing. But you sang better with others. You sang better in the background.
Though that wasn’t the reason your heart was racing, and you knew it.
There was a soft knock on your door.
“Y-yes?”
“You alright in there?”
Arthur’s smooth tone carried through the door, and you felt your heart spike. Getting up and opening the door a crack, you looked out to see him, a worried expression on his face.
“I’m alright. Just a case of the nerves, I’ll be fine for tonight.”
He watched you for a moment longer, looking as if he might argue with you, but then chose to accept you at your word. “Alright then.” He stepped a little bit closer to the door, closer to you; he lowered his voice, speaking softer. “If you need anything, you let me know, okay?”
You nodded. “Yes, Arthur.”
He gave you a look that you couldn’t discern, then closed his eyes and nodded. “That’s my girl,” he said, and walked away.
You closed the door and grabbed your heart again.
That’s my girl?!
***
The night went splendidly well; so well, that you came out for two more encores throughout the night. You wore a gown that attracted everyone’s attention, thanks to Mary-Beth’s fashion sense, and you sang your heart out, ending the night to a standing ovation. You’ll be the first to admit that you botched the first few lines of the first song, but you quickly recovered and just focused on singing, and noted that the crowd grew and grew as the night went on.
As you stepped off the stage for the last time that night, you were stopped by someone grabbing your arm.
A drunk patron, of course. He was easy on the eyes, but he stank of whiskey and had a dopey grin on his face as he leered at you.
“Sweetheart, you were amazing,” he said, pulling you closer to him, his hand like an iron manacle around your arm. “Come with me, I’ll make you a star.”
You tried to pull away. “Thank you, but no, I’d like to stay here.”
He grew angry at your blunt refusal. “Do you know who I am?”
You kept pulling, but now he had another hand gripped around your other arm. “No, I don’t, and I don’t take kindly to you handling me like this!”
“And neither do I,” a gravelly voice said off to your right.
You looked over to see Arthur glaring at the man, his arms crossed. He stepped closer, using his hulking form to intimidate the other man. “So I suggest you let the lady go, or I show you what happens to men who don’t respect a lady’s wishes.”
At his threatening figure, the man pushed you away into Arthur’s chest. Arthur held you steady as the two of you watched the man huff and walk out of the club, looking back one last time to glare at you before slamming the door.
After a few moments, you realized that Arthur’s hands were still on your shoulders, the heat warming your skin through the sheer fabric.
“You okay?” he asked, leaning down to look at where the other man had grabbed your arms.
“I’m alright, thank you,” you said, stepping away from him and quickly fleeing to the dressing room.
***
You breathed a sigh of relief as you took off the gown and changed into your dark blue polka dotted shirtwaist dress and oxfords. Checking your watch, you realized it was three hours later than when you usually went home; finding a taxi at this hour was going to take longer than usual. You exited the room and went back downstairs to say goodnight before going home.
***
As you turned the corner on the staircase, you nearly bumped into Arthur, who was coming up.
“Sorry,” you mumbled, moving aside. He followed your movement, looking up at you.
“I came to see you.”
“O-oh?”
“Can I take you home? It’s later than usual for you, songbird.”
Songbird?
He held his arm out to you. You tentatively reached out, and delicately placed your hand on his arm. Escorting you back down the stairs, he told Charles he was taking you home, and to take care of things here. Charles glanced at you for a moment, then nodded.
“Y-you don’t really need to…”
“I do, darlin’. That man might still be around, and I want to make sure you get home safely.”
You blinked and then smiled at him. He really was a good man.
***
He walked you to his car and drove you to your apartment. He got out and opened the door for you, holding his hand out to you like a gentleman out of a movie. You took it, and felt a warmth blossoming in your heart. Walking to your apartment door, he stood close by with his back towards you, his eyes looking around for anyone who might be stalking you.
When you had unlocked your door and stepped into your apartment, you turned back to him. He had turned to you, watching you with those ocean blue eyes of his.
“Keep your door locked, don’t open it for strangers.”
“Yes, Arthur.”
He took a step closer, slowly reaching out for you. Holding your breath, you let him tip your chin upwards.
“Whenever you say that, makes me want you more.”
Your eyes widened as he caressed your cheek with the back of his knuckles. He looked at you as if he wanted to eat you up, but then he let out a small sigh and suddenly looked sad.
“Yer such a sweet little song bird.” He took a step away from you. He tipped his fedora. “Good night.”
You watched him turn and start to walk away to his car.
“Wait!”
He stopped, but didn’t turn around.
“Would… would you like to come in? For some tea?”
He turned around this time. “Are you sure? Yer invitin’ a big bad wolf inside, little bird.”
You nodded. “I know.”
Arthur slowly walked back towards you. As you stepped aside to let him in, he paused and gave you a heated look.
“You don’t actually have any tea, do ya?”
As you closed & locked the door behind him, you gave him a shy half-smile. “How’d you know?”
He stepped closer to you, his bulk making you feel even smaller than you already were. Leaning down, his lips were dangerously close to yours. “Because you look like you want to get eaten.”
He kissed you, gently, tentatively. When you kissed him back, a switch was flipped, and he wrapped his arms tightly around you and held you close as his kisses became a torrent of passion. He devoured you, your every whimper, your every breath, he took it all and gave you a fire low in your body, a forbidden hunger that had overtaken you.
You looked up at him with your eyes hooded with desire, and he lifted you up in his arms and carried you to your bedroom.
***
Laying you gently on your bed, he covered you, his legs straddling yours as he started to unbutton your dress. You lay still, your fingers gripping his shirt as he stripped you, working his way down your torso, kissing you until he got the last button undone. Pulling you up into his lap as he sat on the edge of the bed, he tossed your dress aside. You were straddling his legs, just in your slip and undergarments, breathing shakily.
“Get up, darlin’. Take that slip off for me,” he commanded as he guided you to stand before him. You did so, and instinctively moved to cover yourself. He grabbed your wrists and shook his head.
“Do as I say,” he said gently, and released your wrists. You took the shoulder straps and slid them down, slowly revealing your skin and bra and panties to his starving gaze. The slip pooled at your feet, and you stood still, waiting for his next command. Reaching out to your panties, he glided them down your body, his thumbs caressing your thighs as they went. You stepped out of them as they fell to the floor, and you looked back up at him. He gestured for you to climb onto his lap again, straddling his strong thighs, your core hovering over the bulge in his pants.
He kissed your neck, then your shoulder. Then he started to work on your bra.
Feeling like you needed to catch up, you started to unbutton his shirt.
“Hold on,” he said, and grabbed your wrists. “I call the shots. Now you sit there and just do as I say, alright?”
“Yes, Arthur.”
He held your chin between his thumb and forefinger. “Good girl,” he rumbled as he ran his thumb along your lips.
Then he slid the bra off your shoulders, flinging it away. Grabbing a hold of each of your breasts, he kneaded them, bending his head down to lick and suck on each of your nipples in turn, making you sigh and whimper, your body aflame with the desire building inside you. His hands then slid down your body slowly, until he was grasping your hips. One hand slipped between your legs, gliding up and down both your thighs, teasing the sensitive skin.
You moaned.
“I knew you’d sound pretty when touched,” he muttered, and teased your opening with his fingertips. You gasped at the feather touch, two of his fingers gently caressing your nether lips, spreading your juices around. Then he pushed a finger inside of you.
“Ahh!” you cried out, your hips jolting forward, loving the way he was exploring you, his eyes watching your reactions intently.
“Such a sweet cry.” He pushed another finger inside you. “Wonder what other sounds you can make?”
You made all kinds of sounds when he finger fucked you, his thumb alternately pressing and stroking your clit, controlling your highs and lows as he played you like an instrument.
Just as you were reaching that delectable peak, he pulled his fingers out, and you whimpered in loss.
“Now now, darlin’. Just gettin’ you ready for the main event.” Arthur lifted you up by your waist and sat you down on the bed. You watched as he unzipped his fly and pulled out his long, thick manhood. He grabbed your hand and wrapped it around his cock; you marveled at how it felt like heated velvet against your skin.
He wrapped his hand around yours, teaching you how to stroke him, quiet murmurs of instruction as you got the hang of caressing him, where his sensitive spots were, how to pace yourself as you switched hands after one was starting to get tired. As you were stroking him, he took off his clothes, stopping you just long enough to lose his pants and kick off his shoes.
“Lay down on your back and spread your legs,” he ordered once he was fully naked.
“Yes, Arthur.”
He stood above you, his shaft hard and ready for you, as you laid down with your legs spread, feeling like a wanton woman. He looked so powerful and imposing as he looked down at you, an arrogant smile on his face.
“Perfect.” He leaned down and nudged your wet entrance, pushing forward as your body resisted the invasion. You took deep breaths to relax yourself, but it still hurt, he was so big.
“Arthur…” you whimpered.
“You can take it,” he crooned, grabbing your hips and pulling you towards him as he shoved himself forward.
You screamed; he was filling you, breaking you on his huge cock.
“There ya go,” he crooned. He pulled out a little bit and rammed back inside. “So tight.” He fell forward onto his elbows, his hands on your shoulders, tucking your arms next to your body. You were covered entirely by his burly torso, trapped underneath him.
And then his hips started to thrust in a steady rhythm; you felt his every movement, every inch of him taking you, making you his. You felt a hand grasp your hair, pulling your head to one side as he breathed on your neck, licked your earlobe.
“Yer so good, darlin’.”
You could feel Arthur’s heavy breath against your skin as he fucked you, crushing your body beneath his as he reached for your throat. He gripped you just enough for you to know how big his hand was, how small your neck was. He could break you so easily.
Then he let go, lifting up enough so you could breathe easier as he slowed his pace, watching your eyes flutter as he pushed in to the hilt and ground his hips against you.
“Fuckin’ beautiful,” he growled. Pulling out of you and standing once more, he flipped you onto your stomach, your legs hanging off the bed. You felt him slide inside of you once more, the new angle making your body quiver with pleasure as you let out a high pitched moan. He wrapped an arm around your neck, arching your body, pulling it against his hard chest. He kissed your temple.
“Moan more for me,” he ordered, his lips against your ear. You cried out as he drove into you hard, the slap of flesh against flesh resounding in your small bedroom. The sounds you made were music to Arthur’s ears, and he slowly lost control, his grip on your body becoming rougher with each melodious sound he wrung from your throat.
Each time he shoved himself inside of you, the lust ravaging your veins pulsed louder and louder, your whole being tied to the erotic rhythm of his thrusts until you felt like your heartbeat began to match. As he took you faster and faster, driving both of you towards a cliff that you heartily wanted to fly off, he took his arm away from your neck and grabbed your hips instead, pumping harder than ever before.
Then he pulled your hair and growled into your ear.
“Mine, yer all mine, little bird.”
You came from his possessive words and the way he was grabbing you, your strangled cry of release eliciting his own intense grunt followed by cathartic moaning as he came, his hips jerking as he poured everything he had into your welcome heat.
He collapsed on top of you, but quickly rolled over so he wouldn’t suffocate you under his weight. Keeping his arms around you, he lay on his back, draping you over his body. For a little while, you were both silent, the room filled with your entwined breaths.
“Arthur?”
“Hm?”
“Did you mean what you said?”
“That yer mine?”
“Yes.”
“Of course I did.” He reached down and began to rub your pussy again, making you mewl in his arms. “I ain’t givin’ up a pretty little songbird like you.”
It was going to be a long night. But you were glad you invited him in for tea you didn’t have.