Guns & roses

by Glenna Maynard

  “Hi, Trucker. Nice to meet you.”

  “Pleasure is all mine.” He grins at her like a damn fool.

  ATL smacks the back of his head. “Quit drooling over Prez’s old lady and show some damn respect. Ignore Trucker. Motherfucker needs laid. I’m ATL, that ugly fuck over there is Snoop, and over there is Harlem. You already know Murphy’s crusty old ass.”

  “Who you callin’ old?” Murphy grunts, rubbing a hand over Teagan’s ass.

  “You fuckers clear out. This is a private game.”

  “You heard the man. Everyone out of the bar. You might not want to go home but you can’t stay here,” ATL announces, cupping his hands around his fat mouth.

  Everyone scatters.

  “You didn’t have to make them all leave.” Ainsley skips her fingers down the side of the cherrywood table. Her brown eyes meet my baby blues.

  “Didn’t figure you’d want an audience because when I win, I’m bending you over this table.”

  “Ha. You mean if you win.”

  I grin at her as she goes over to the sticks, taking her time in choosing one.

  If I didn’t know any better, I’d think she’s trying to hustle me.

  The bar empties out and it’s just the two of us.

  I go over to the jukebox and turn it down. “You want the music off or on?”

  “On. I’ll rack.”

  I shake my head at her and move behind the bar for another beer. Popping the cap off I stare at my wife. Dressed in a pair of dark tight denim jeans with the knees ripped out and a white V-neck tee that hugs her tits. Her dark hair is swept up on her head, and all I can think about is tangling my fist up in the silky strands again. Taking a long pull from the bottle I cross the room and see how she did racking the balls.

  “I’ll let you break. C’mere.” I sit my beer on a nearby table.

  Ainsley moves around the table looking sexy as hell. Her jeans are lowcut, and I can see hints of my brand on her hip. The sight makes me hard. She’s goddamned beautiful and she knows it.

  “Stand right here,” I instruct from behind her. “Now lean forward and hold the stick like this.” I move over her small fame, guiding her fingers into position. “Hit hard, but not too hard.”

  “Like this?” She looks over her shoulder, pushing her ass straight into my crotch. Win or lose I am fucking her over this table. I don’t give a damn what she says.

  “Yeah. Just like that.” I grab her hips and thrust.

  “Abel, stop. This is serious.”

  “Fine.” I step away and hold up my hands. “I was going to take it easy on you but have it your way.”

  “Thank you.” Pursing her lips, she resumes her stance and takes the shot, managing to sink two balls.

  She’s good but not that good. I’m down to the eight-ball and she has three balls on the table. “Better run the table or the game is mine.”

  “Shut up and stop distracting me.”

  I lick my lips and finish off another beer. If anyone is distracting, it’s her swaying those hips and wiggling her ass at me every time she moves around the fucking table. She’s damn near hypnotizing.

  I don’t stand a fucking chance. I haven’t since I first laid eyes on her laying in my brother’s bed at the Roadhouse covered in my grandmother’s quilt. I knew then that I wanted her Axel be damned. He’s my brother, and I love him, but I love me more. I’m a selfish prick, and I’m going to make her mine in every way that counts.

  Chapter 7

  Ainsley

  “What are you doing? I can’t stop the smile from creeping across my face as Abel hooks an arm around my waist and kisses my neck. “I won. That means we do this my way.”

  “Technically speaking. I won. You didn’t call the pocket.”

  “That’s not fair.” I squeal when he tickles my ribs.

  “Who said anything is fair in love and war? Now get these off.” He hooks a finger through the belt loop of my jeans and jerks me forward.

  I gape at him. “You can’t be serious. What if someone walks in?”

  “They won’t. I sent them all away, remember?”

  “Aren’t there cameras in here?”

  “Yup, but I’ll erase them later. I’m claiming my prize.” Abel fumbles with the button on my jeans and proceeds to unzip them. Dropping down he takes my jeans down my legs with him leaving them at my ankles. I kick my boots off and turn around, placing my palms on the green felt table.

  “Just so we’re clear. I lost on purpose.”

  “Sure you did.” His torturous lips meet the back of my thigh as he pulls my denim the rest of the way off carefully.

  Strong hands work their way up my legs rubbing and teasing. “Spread’em.” Abel presses against my knees and I comply. We may not like one another very much but one thing we have in common is our sexual attraction. Arousal coats my inner thighs. The thrill of anticipation shoots through me like waiting for fireworks to explode on the Fourth of July.

  Maybe Stephanie was right. Sex is the key to making Abel love me. He removes my black lace bottoms next. His weight presses against me, and I hear his zipper. Lips to my neck he lines his cock up with my entrance. The head of his dick kisses my pussy lips. Rubbing the tip back and forth through my slick heat, he teases me.

  “Always ready for this dick, aren’t you?”

  “Yes,” I hiss, bracing for his intrusion. Closing my eyes, I push all thoughts out of my mind and focus on him and the joining of our bodies. Grabbing my hip, he drives inside me. We fit together easily, and I find myself wondering where we’d be now had I met him first. The first time I saw him I knew I was attracted to him. His gorgeous blue eyes, charming smile, and tattoos sucked me in. I thought I knew what I wanted…To be with Axel but he gave me up so easily. He didn’t even try to fight for me. He handed me off to Abel like an old worn t-shirt. A hand me down. I was nothing special to him. What we had meant nothing.

  Reaching back, I place my hand on my husband’s and promise myself that this time I’ll get it right. This time when I fall, I’ll be sure.

  Pulling out, he taps me on my hip. “Up on the table. I want you looking in my eyes when you get off.”

  My chest squeezes tight and I push up from the table. Lifting my hips, he sits me on the edge.

  “Did you mean what you said earlier? That you want to try?”

  Wrapping my legs around him, I nod into his mouth and kiss him deeply. His tongue meets mine full of desire. “I want to be with you, Abel. I want you to love me. I want to make you happy.”

  He doesn’t say anything. My husband pushes inside me, and I lay back on the table and pretend he already does love me. I give in and as his touch moves over my body, his cock pumps inside me, and his kisses melt into my skin. I allow him to erase Axel from my heart and my mind.

  “Forget about me.”

  I already have.

  “Eyes on me, wife ‘o mine.” My gaze meets his and his eyes remind me of crushed blue velvet. I let go and freefall over the cliff of eternal bliss. My husband falls with me. A tremble quakes through him, his warmth flows into me, and I rock against him, chasing a second orgasm, loving the feel of him.

  Resting his forehead against mine, his beer stained breath washes over me in heavy waves. Our lips meet briefly, and he pulls out leaving me feeling fully sated. Gazing between us he smirks then rubs a finger through my slick heat and shoves his cum back inside me. Kissing my belly, he continues to finger fuck me.

  “Abel…” I pant as warmth floods me.

  “You belong to me now, Ainsley. I don’t ever want you thinking about Axel or any other fuckin’ man again. This pussy belongs to me. And I promise you, I’ll only think of you.” I shudder and soak his fingers. Removing his touch, he shoves his fingers in my mouth. “We taste good together.”

  I moan around his fingers, my body feeling on fire like live a wire.

  “Come on. Get your clothes back on. I need something to eat.”
/>
  While I’m getting my clothes on, he’s on his cell phone. “Trash it.”

  “He sent something else?”

  Abel nods, tucking his phone in his back pocket. “Nothing to worry about.” He grabs my hand, bringing my knuckles to his lips. “You driving or you want to ride on the back of my bike?”

  “Your bike.” I smile. We’ve been married for three months now, and I still haven’t ridden with him. I try to hide the uneasiness I feel about Raul Hernandez and the presents he keeps sending me. Abel isn’t concerned but I am. The man claims my father promised him my hand and from the things I have heard about him he sounds like a monster.

  “Good answer. Leave your keys behind the bar. I’ll have one of the guys get it home for you.”

  We spend ten minutes in the parking lot while he gives me a crash course in being a passenger on a motorcycle. My arms go around Abel and I inhale the leather scent of his cut. The world blows past us and I feel free and like maybe we stand a chance.

  For the first time in what seems like forever I have hope.

  Hope that he will keep me safe.

  Hope that we are going to be okay.

  Hope that he can find a way to love me.

  Hope that I can let go of the past and look to the future.

  We end up driving to the next town over to a bar and grill. The parking lot is crowded, and it sounds like there is a live band. Abel helps me off his bike and slides an arm around my waist. He stares into my eyes, lips witching into a smile. “I like this look on you.”

  “What look?” I gaze back at him unsure of his meaning.

  “Happiness…peace.”

  “It’s all the hot sex,” I sass.

  “Is that all?”

  “Maybe it’s partly you. I like this…you showing me your sweet side.”

  “I can be your dream come true or your worst nightmare, baby. I give what I get.”

  “No.” I shake my head. “Even when I didn’t deserve it you were gentle with me.” Emotion is thick in my throat as I remember our wedding night and how I betrayed him after giving him my word. I know I hurt him. I was too selfish licking my own wounds and feeling sorry for myself to see what I had in front of me. A chance to start over. A chance at something real. The fantasy that Axel promised me but never planned to deliver.

  I have a chance at it with Abel. I’m done wasting it.

  “In the past. We’re starting over with a clean slate.”

  I suck in a breath knowing I need to tell him what he probably already suspects, but I don’t want to ruin a good thing. He says if I am pregnant that it won’t matter that this baby will be his but saying and doing are two different things. I have so much hope, but hope can be a dangerous thing when you’re a girl in my position.

  “Unless there is something you want to tell me.”

  Stephanie’s advice from earlier echoes in my head but even if it makes me a fool, I can’t lie to him.

  “Can I tell you tomorrow?”

  He kisses the side of my head. “Tomorrow, Ainsley, but I’ll not have lies or secrets between us. Not now.”

  “I promise.”

  He nods and leads me inside.

  The double western saloon style doors open to a loud scene. To the left is a dining room and to the right is a bar. In the back is a stage with a live band and in the middle of the joint is a mechanical bull. Abel follows my gaze. “You wanna ride?”

  My hand instinctively moves to my stomach. I quickly brush at my shirt like there was something there, but my husband isn’t stupid. “Some other time. I’m hungry.”

  “Yo’, Prez,” a deep voice booms from across the bar.

  Abel sees the apprehension on my face but squeezes my hand. “Come on. They aren’t that bad.”

  I don’t tell him it’s not his men I’m worried about. It’s the blonde with them and the way she stares at my husband. Guess I know which whore belongs to him. My stomach drops when she bats her lashes at him. “Hey, Abel.”

  “Oaklyn,” he says her name coolly and my stomach flip flops. I want to grab her by her hair and ram her head into the table, but instead I smile and lean into my husband.

  “Scoot over fucker, I mean Trucker.” The dark-skinned brother named ATL throws fries at Trucker. He moves down and Abel motions me into the round booth. I scoot in by Trucker and my husband slides in placing a hand on my upper thigh.

  “What do you want?”

  I was hungry until we came over to this table. Now my appetite has left me. “Just a bacon burger and fries.”

  “What about to drink?”

  “A Sprite.”

  “Is caffeine a good idea?”

  “What?”

  “Nothing.”

  He reaches across the table and place our order electronically on the kiosk.

  I feel that Oaklyn bitch staring at me. “You guys have something to share with the rest of us?”

  ATL elbows her but she keeps staring at me.

  I narrow my eyes at her. She’s definitely fucked my husband, but I have news for her. She won’t ever have him again. “What business would it be of yours?” My voice comes out in a feral growl that surprises me.

  Abel looks at me with a shit eating grin. “Put your claws away, baby. She don’t mean any harm.”

  “No? But maybe I do.” I don’t blink. I keep my gaze on her and she smiles.

  “I like you.”

  The table falls quiet.

  “Well I don’t like you.” I snub my nose at her and Abel brings my knuckles to his lips.

  “Easy, killer.”

  “You gonna deny that you fucked her? Because I can see it all over her face.”

  “Maybe we should take our food to go.”

  “Why? If she can sit here and talk to me knowing she’s a cunt I can live with it.”

  “Ainsley,” Abel barks my name in warning.

  “I get it but don’t worry your pretty face another minute about me. I know a man devoted to his old lady when I see one.”

  I snort.

  “That’s enough out of you both.” Abel’s fist pounds on the table and he gives ATL a sharp look. A look that says reign in the whore.

  “Why don’t we go try out that bull?” ATL grips her wrist, pulling her away from the table.

  Chapter 8

  Ainsley

  “Stop showin’ your ass, baby. You’ve got nothing to be jealous of. I told you as long as you give me a reason to come home, I won’t stray.” Tilting my chin toward him he leans in for a kiss, but I pull away.

  “So you admit it. You fucked that bitch.”

  Trucker whistles and slides out the other side leaving us alone.

  “I fucked her. You happy?”

  I laugh and shake my head. “You think that makes me happy?” Tears burn in my eyes, and I know I have no right after the shit I pulled on our wedding night, but I can’t stop myself. Jealousy tastes bitter on my tongue and I hate it.

  “No, but I find your jealousy hot as fuck.”

  I scowl and stare off into the crowd.

  “Listen to me. Hell, three days ago you still hated my ass. I gave you my word. This is a new start. None of the shit from before matters. But you gotta understand that bitches like Oaklyn aren’t going anywhere. Not until she moves on or the brothers get tired of her. As long as she doesn’t cause any problems.”

  I fold my arms over my chest. “You didn’t see the way she was looking at you.”

  “Sweetheart, I saw and chose to ignore her. She’s just curious. I knew she wasn’t the type to get clingy. She’s wondering what it is about you that had me blowing her off just because you called and wanted me home. Do you know how good that felt to be needed by you?”

  “Abel…” I get choked up when I meet his velvety blues. Could he already be feeling something for me? “I still don’t like the idea of her being around you.”

  “I don’t like the thought that you could
be carrying Axel’s baby and not mine but I’m here ready to look past that.”

  “So you know.”

  “Yeah. I know.” He cuts off when our food is served. I lost my appetite at the mention of Axel and the possibility I could be pregnant with his child. “We’ll discuss it tomorrow.”

  I nod and bite back my tears. Axel has no place between us. Not anymore. Abel’s men and whore don’t return to our table and we eat in silence.

  I excuse myself to the bathroom while he goes to pay our tab.

  When I go to the sink to wash my hands I look up and see Oaklyn behind me in the mirror. “What?” I snap.

  “I get that you don’t like me. I’d hate me too. If it is any consolation to you, I’m about eighty percent sure that when he was with me, he was thinking about you.”

  “He probably was.” I shoot her a fake smile.

  “Just treat him right.”

  I scoff. “Seriously, where do you get off?”

  “Under your husband. At least I did. But I know when I’ve lost.”

  I shake my head and make for the door before I slap this bitch.

  “He’s in love with you.”

  “I’d hope so, we’re expecting a child together,” I say the words for the first time aloud and oddly I like the sound. I don’t wait for a response. I don’t want one. I’m going to get on the back of my husband’s motorcycle then I am going home to sleep with him. “Have fun playing musical dicks.” I leave her standing in the bathroom and bump into ATL outside the door.

  “Everything okay? I mean you didn’t kill her, did you?”

  “Not yet.”

  His eyes go big and then he chuckles. “Okay. Okay. You got jokes. I like you. Just take care of my Prez.”

  “I’ll do my best.”

  “No doubt.” He grins at me, and I set off to find Abel so we can go home. I need a bath and to relax. I need to forget that he’s fucked that bitch.

  I find him waiting by the front door for me. “You good?” I stare at the man I married. The man I keep inviting between my legs. He’s rough. Dirty blond hair that’s starting to grow out and facial scruff that could us a good shave. Tattoos up and down his strong arms, ink that means something to him. Abel has pride for where he comes from. There’s a road sign on his left forearm that reads Drag Creek behind the scene of a skeleton on a motorcycle. It represents his past—where he’s been. I’m his future.