Carter rubbed his gut. “Yeah, we're good. But the beers are most definitely on you.”
~oOo~
Bath was probably one of Mouse's favourite cities. Not only was it beautiful, but even at the height of summer, when it was crawling with tourists, there were corners that felt like well kept secrets. The narrow lanes, with sweet little shops and cafes, seemed to elude the coach loads of elderly ladies or loud Americans. They would only want to see The Royal Crescent, or take tea in the Pump Rooms, after visiting the baths and rarely looked beyond the usual tourist traps, meaning the locals had it pretty much all to themselves.
Tourists were useful, of course. In the past, Mouse and Gaynor had made good money busking outside the cathedral. A flame-haired punk, with a BA in music, and who was a virtuoso on the flute, and a scrawny little Anarchist, who happened to have—if she said so herself—one hell of a voice always attracted attention. Of course, sometimes it attracted the wrong sort, but a flute is light, and they'd always managed to evade the local plod.
Today, though, she wasn't singing for her supper, or admiring the architecture and soaking up the atmosphere. She was outside a dressmaker’s, loading the jeep with boxes of scrap material that Maggie had managed to swap for some jars of honey and a few dozen eggs. So far Mouse had avoided getting a lecture, but she knew that Maggie had something to say, and she wasn't sure she wanted to hear it.
She pulled a large square of lace from the top of one of the boxes. “What do you plan to do with this?”
Maggie shrugged. “Not sure. We could make rag rugs, or patchwork quilts. They're always useful.”
“We?”
“Yes, we.” Maggie grinned and pulled out a length of ribbon. “And what we don't use, the kids can have for art stuff.”
Mouse stuffed the scrap of lace back into the box, and leaned on the side of the jeep. “Is Digger okay?”
Maggie shrugged. “He's getting old, he smokes those disgusting cigarettes, and has spent god knows how long sleeping on a bed roll on a horsebox floor. Then he gets abandoned by his friends and beaten up by a bunch of thugs. No, lover, he's not okay.”
“But he will be?”
Again, Maggie shrugged. “He will be if he lets me look after him and stops running around the countryside trying to take care of everyone.”
“He thinks I should, I dunno, move on, make a go of things with Nitro.” Mouse watched her friend carefully; she still had the feeling that something was being kept from her. “He seems to be under the impression that I'm not committed anymore.”
Maggie shook her head. “He knows you're committed, Mouse, but he can see how disillusioned you're becoming, and he can see how much you like Nitro. Digger's just worried that you're going to screw things up with him.” She opened the driver's door. “Come on, let's get something to eat.”
“Since when has Digger taken an interest in my sex life?” Mouse climbed into the passenger seat.
“Since you met a man who didn't fall at the first hurdle.” Maggie grinned as the jeep coughed into life. “Pub?”
“Pub.”
~oOo~
It took just over half an hour to get from The Drip to Hope Farm. Nitro wasn't entirely sure that Mouse would be pleased to see him, but he'd been fighting, and now he needed to fuck, so he didn't have any choice.
The June sun was dipping below the treeline as he pulled up outside the farmhouse and killed the engine, and the only sign of life was Digger sitting on a bench by the kitchen door. Shit, someone had really gone to work on the guy. Nitro grinned as he dismounted and wandered over to where he was sitting. “Fuck, man. That's gotta hurt. You want me to find out who did this?”
Digger shrugged. “I'm sorely tempted to say yes.”
“Just say the word, my friend. Shouldn't be too hard to find out.” Nitro sat and examined Digger's face. “Mouse said you refused to get that checked, you sure that's wise? Looks to me like your nose is busted, and I'm betting what I can't see is worse.”
“I'll mend.” Nitro wasn't entirely convinced, but he didn't argue when the old hippie gave a lopsided grin. “Maggie takes good care of me. She an' Mouse are out, by the way. They shouldn't be long. You can roll me a joint with that fine weed while we wait.” Nitro's stash was getting low, but he pulled the bag from his boot, and did as he was told. Digger's grin widened. “I take it Mouse isn't expecting you.”
“Nah. Just went for a ride and this is where I wound up.” Nitro looked out over the fields. “I like it here.”
“Not really your world, though, is it.”
He was right. This wasn't his world, and it never would be. Just like Mouse would never fit in his.
Digger clearly wasn't waiting for an answer. “You understand about commitment, though. Dunno much about the Freaks, but I've come across enough clubs over the years to know that. Travellers an' Bikers have kinda got a chequered history in this country, Nitro.” The old guy stared into the distance. “Things weren't so bad in the beginning. We would sometimes go to the same festivals, but we'd mostly stay out of each other's way. But then the punks started moving out of the squats in the city an' taking up with the travellers. It was an angry time: Thatcher was closing the factories an' the mines, whole communities were being decimated, an' these kids had no future. They weren't like us; they weren't gonna turn the other cheek.” Digger grinned. “I fucking loved 'em. Unfortunately, bikers didn't, an' these kids fought back. Wasn't a lot of peace an' love at festivals after that.”
“Things are different now.” Nitro was well aware of the shit that clubs had done back then, and he would never have patched in if that was still the case. “An' the Freaks didn't have a chapter here then.”
Digger shrugged. “Jus' pointing out the facts, son. Bikers an' Anarchists got a lot of bad blood between 'em. If you're serious 'bout Mouse, you have to appreciate that. Don't let it slide, an' don't go kidding yourself that it doesn't matter. You're both committed to things that are incompatible. One of you will have to compromise.”
Nitro lit the joint. “Ain't gonna walk away from the club, an' I don't expect Mouse to compromise. The Freaks treat their women pretty good, an' not all of us are violent. We'll figure it out.”
“How?” Digger leaned forward and rubbed his neck. “You see her in your clubhouse, making nice with the old ladies? Cos I sure as shit don't. And if one of your brothers grabs her arse? You think she's gonna let that go?”
“No one is gonna grab her ass.” Nitro would see to that.
“No. She'll just have to sit back and watch you an' your brothers groping the girls who hang around your club. You okay with knowing that she'll have to keep her mouth shut? Do you know what that'll do to her? An' what about you, Nitro? You okay with your girl facing up to the sort o' arseholes who did this to me? You gonna keep bailing her out when she gets arrested? How long 'fore that shit starts getting old?”
“You got a problem with me, old man?”
“Personally? No I don't.” Digger eyed the joint. “Although, it you bogart that for much longer, I might.” Nitro passed him the joint, and he continued. “Mouse is my concern. She's...”
“Not as tough as she looks. I know.” Nitro looked up as an ancient jeep rattled along the track. “I ain't gonna hurt her.”
“She'll push your buttons, you know that, right?”
“Yep.” Nitro grinned and stood as the jeep pulled up in front of them. “I've got this.”
13
Her heart actually skipped a beat. Shit, that wasn't a thing. That was something that happened in shitty romance novels, or to thirteen-year-old girls. A grown woman wouldn't have a near heart attack at the sight of an, admittedly, damn near perfect man. It was probably indigestion, because if those were butterflies in her stomach, they were on steroids.
Shit, she was a walking, sodding, cliché.
And then he grinned, and it didn't matter any more. Mouse felt the corners of her mouth turn up, and, as soon as he was within touching distance, slipped her arms ins
ide his cut.
Nitro flinched. “Easy.”
“Sorry.” Mouse pulled away and squinted up at him, “What have you done?”
“Nothing,” He took off his aviators, revealing an impressive black eye.
“Shit, Nitro.” Mouse was overwhelmed by the urge to... shit... kiss it better, or something. What the fuck was wrong with her?
“It's nothing, Mouse.” He bent and kissed her.
Mouse wasn't anti-violence, per se, she understood that sometimes it had to happen, but she didn't like it, especially when people she loved got hurt. She pulled away, again. “You're hurt.”
“Bruises, is all. It's been a while since I've gotten in the ring, and I got caught once or twice.” He grabbed the front of her shirt and pulled her closer. “Fighting makes me horny.”
Of course it did.
Mouse default response would be to get annoyed—angry, even. She couldn't stand that kind of machismo. She wasn't the type of woman who got all fluttery because, despite having a whole bunch of women on tap, he'd come to her. She certainly wasn't the type who got turned on by the thought of him, with sweat and blood running down his bare torso, as he slugged it out in the ring.
“Who were you fighting?”
“Carter, the VP.”
Oh, she remembered him. He was almost as hot as Nitro. Her arms found their way inside his cut again, and she pressed herself against his, already hard, cock. “Ever fucked in a teepee?”
~oOo~
Nitro knew he was good in the sack. Unlike many of his brothers who would brag about how long they could last or how big their cocks were, or how they'd nailed a bitch into submission, he had a reputation for saying nothing about the girls he'd laid. He knew that to keep the girls coming back for more, a guy had to give them what they wanted, and no two girls were the same. Some liked it rough, some preferred a more gentle approach, and some didn't know what they liked until he showed them.
Mouse didn't much like rough sex; he was good with that. Just as he was okay with taking his cues from her. But sometimes, he needed to fuck his way.
“Wow.” He looked around the teepee, it was far more luxurious than he'd imagined, with a raised floor covered in sheepskin rugs, and a sleek, modern woodburner in the centre. The only furniture was an antique-looking bed, a small chest of drawers and a high-backed arm chair. “This is cool, is it yours?” He slipped off his cut and laid it carefully on the chest.
Mouse shook her head and began to pull off her boots. “No, it's used for guests, but it's mine for the duration.”
Nitro sat on the bed. “Sit down. I need to talk to you.”
“Thought you were horny.” She flopped down beside him.
Oh, he was. “I am. But...”
“There's a but?”
He grinned and planted a kiss in her temple. “Not really. I'm kinda fired up, Mouse. I get like this sometimes after a fight. It's not so much that I can't keep a lid on it, an' riding here has taken the edge off, but... I guess I don't wanna scare ya.”
Mouse leaned against him and linked her fingers through his. “Will you hurt me?”
He shook his head. “I'll never hurt you.”
There were thirty-seven freckles on her nose. Nitro knew that because he counted them while he waited for her to speak. She did this sometimes—took a moment before she spoke. He wasn't sure why, but it almost seemed as though she was waiting for something.
Then she kissed him.
Nitro pushed her back onto the bed and began unbuckling his belt. “I need you on your knees.”
She shook her head. “You can fuck me as hard as you need, biker boy. But you'll look me in the eye while you do it.”
“My way, Mouse. Get those jeans off and get on your knees.” He could see the conflict in her eyes. “Trust me.”
She began wiggling out of her jeans. “You'll stop if I ask?”
“Of course. You know that.” Nitro bent and unlaced his boots, his eyes never leaving hers. “I ain't gonna do anything we ain't done before, I just don't want you to freak out if I get a little...”
She grinned. “Carried away?”
He took a condom from his back pocket and unbuttoned his fly. “Need to fuck the adrenalin outta my system is all. Get on your knees,” he patted the edge of the bed. “Here.”
Mouse did as she was told. As soon as she was in position, he rolled on a condom and pushed his impatient cock inside her. He'd been worried that she wasn't ready for him, but her sweet, tight pussy was as wet as it always was. Nitro grabbed the top of her thigh with one hand, and with the other, pushed her down onto the mattress. She stiffened slightly, and he held himself still until he felt her relax. Nitro had no intention of hurting her, or forcing her to do something she wasn't comfortable with. “Okay?”
“Yeah.” She pushed back against him until he filled her.
“Good girl.” He began to move, carefully, at first, then, once satisfied she was cool, upped the pace and ferocity. Despite wanting to slam his cock inside her until she screamed, he was still holding back. Then she brought her legs together, gripping him even tighter, and all vestiges of self-control were lost.
~oOo~
Oh, Christ on crack, Mouse had never been so full.
She could only move independently if Nitro allowed it, and his hold on her was uncompromising, as he fucked her harder than she'd ever been fucked before.
This was where she started to freak out. Her face was practically forced into the bed, his fingers were digging into her inner thigh, and he was pounding inside her like a... fuck... like a big poundy thing.
Any second now, she would panic.
But, shit, he was good, and Mouse had never felt so safe. She brought her legs together, gripping him tighter. Nitro grunted and thrust even harder, reaching parts of her she didn't even know existed. A guttural sound emerged from her lips as her orgasm hit her from nowhere, and Nitro gave one final jerk, before collapsing onto the bed next to her.
“Shit.” She turned to face him and wrapped her arms around his neck. “You should fight more often.”
“You're something else, punk.” Nitro kissed the corner of her mouth and pulled her into his arms. “Gimme a minute an' we'll go again. Your way.”
A friend had told her about a book where a character had an inner goddess. Mouse didn't have one of those.
The voice inside her head was a spiteful bitch. It would remind her how weak and pathetic she was, or crow with delight when she fucked up. It would tell her that her mum had never wanted her. Even when everyone was telling her that the stuff that had happened wasn't her fault, the voice was whispering in her ear “yes it was.”
Her inner whatever was the one who'd tell her when she was being played. So while she wanted to lie in his arms, and enjoy the moment, all she could hear was that the reason Nitro was so fucking good was because he'd had a whole lot of practice.
“Nitro?”
“Gimme a sec.” He pulled her closer and pressed his lips against her hair. “Fighting an' fucking wipes me out.”
Mouse sighed. “Why did you come here?”
“Jesus, Mouse. Can we not have this conversation again?”
She shook her head and sat up. “Sorry, wrong question. I just need to know whether this... you and me. Are we together now?”
Nitro opened one eye. “Sure as shit looks like it, punk.” She couldn't make up her mind if he was being facetious or not. He opened his other eye and grinned. “Yes, Mouse. We're together.”
She needed to kiss him now. Mouse took a deep breath. “Are we exclusive?”
“This is one of those questions that I'm gonna get wrong, isn't it?” He raised himself up onto his elbows. “If I promise not to screw around, you won’t believe me, an' if I say we ain't, you'll kick my ass outta here.”
God, she loved him. She grinned. “Stop trying to second-guess me, biker boy. Are we exclusive?”
“Sure.” He sat up and put his hands on her shoulders. “For as long as we love ea
ch other, we're exclusive.”
“Have you ever thought of taking up politics, cos that's a true politician's answer.” She slapped his chest. “And you promised not to say that.”
“Hmm?” Nitro was no longer listening, all his attention was on trying to unbutton her shirt. She poked his bicep with her forefinger—which hurt more than she thought it would—and he looked up from his task. “Wha...? Oh.” He grinned. “Yeah, but that was before you were my woman.”
~oOo~
As Nitro sat at the kitchen table, sharing his stew with the kid on his lap, it occurred to him that Mouse's world and his were more similar than she thought.
There were two new faces at the table tonight—friends of Digger, he guessed. They had pretty much ignored him, but there could be no denying the animosity that was emanating from their side of the table. Nitro understood their suspicion—he'd be the same if he was in their position—and he had no doubt that it was Steve who was fanning the flames.
The kid—he couldn't remember his name—waved a dripping spoon of beans in front of his face. “Eat Nito.”
He manage to catch most of it in his mouth this time. The kid's mom, a cute little blonde with an impressive rack, laughed. “Do you want me to take him? You're getting quite a lot of that down you.”
“Nah, we're having fun, ain't we, buddy?”
The kid nodded and passed him the spoon. “My turn.”
One of the older kids—one with a stupid hippie name—looked up. “Can we go on your bike again?”
“It's kinda late, darlin'. Another time.”
“In the morning?”
“Sorry, we've gotta head out first thing.” He was aware of Mouse shifting in her seat beside him.
“You'll come back, though?”
“Sure, I like coming here.”
Maggie poured some more wine into his glass. “This must be different to what you're used to.”
He shrugged and dodged a flying bean. “Not so much. Most of my brothers have wives and kids. There are a lot of family dinners, an' I'm always the one the kids wanna be with.” He took a sip of the wine and grimaced. “The booze is better, though.”
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