Scarred Asphalt

by Blue Remy

  The TGMC were having their church meeting, and every bike that a patch member rode was sitting pretty just outside the clubhouse. Standing in the doorway, guarding it, was the MIA Jan. He was outfitted in a TGMC Prospect cut, wearing the green and black that the SixGuns were readily growing to despise.

  “That piece of shit is mine.” Wolf snarled behind Romeo, causing the hairs on the back of his neck to rise.

  “Don’t kill him. Just maim him a little. We don’t want any homicides on our record. This isn’t the time.”

  Wolf just grunted in reply, but Romeo knew he won that argument. Besides, if Wolf went against what the president said, his ass was grass and he knew it.

  Jan looked up seeing the truck inching closer and waved it off. Like Zack was going to listen? Pffft. He kept on rolling.

  “Stop!” Jan shouted at the truck, though his eyes grew wide as saucers when he saw who was driving.

  Romeo could see him mouth ‘Fuck’ as he turned around to run toward the door. It was no use. Wolf was out the back and charging for the traitorous male. Before he could make it to the door, Wolf had him by the scruff of the neck and tossed him back like a ragdoll. The poor kid didn’t even have time to shout out a warning to his future brothers before Wolf was on top of him.

  The vans screeched in behind them, everyone bailed out of the vehicles and ran for the bikes. Sinjin grabbed chains and ran for the front doors, while Talon ran for the back, carrying a set of chains as well. The windows were already barred shut, so all the two needed to do was make sure that no one could escape; chains through the metal handles, padlocked tight, would do that job nicely.

  Once the doors were sealed shut and the brothers knew that the enemy couldn’t escape, they got rowdy with their escapades. Bikes were kicked over, metal crashed to asphalt. Sickening crunching sounds filled the air as baseball bats, crowbars, and tire irons, swung around and slammed into every part of the rival’s motorcycles.

  Gas mixed with oil on the ground, primary fluids leaked down engines as the men did whatever damage they could. It didn’t take long for the TG to hear the racket and try busting out through the doors, but alas, that wasn’t happening. Men were yelling, slamming their bodies up against the metal barriers without avail.

  Sucked to be them.

  Glass shattered as the men threw chairs at the windows, hands grabbed at the iron bars that held them prisoner, trying to bend or break them to get free. No such luck. Maybe they’d think out their security measures just a tad bit better next time.

  Romeo had a backpack full of goodies that he needed for his own special job, and he was looking forward to it. He stopped at Muerte’s bike, which was set apart from the others, set down the backpack, and slowly walked around the chopper. It was a custom fuck job in Romeo’s eyes. It reminded him of the bicycles that they loved to bling out. Smaller tire in the back and an oversized tire in the front. The ape hangers were custom done, twenty-two inches, everything chromed out and emerald green.

  Romeo motioned to a few of the guys, who ran over to give him a hand. The four of them grabbed the bike, picked up the hardtail and turned it over, setting it on its handlebars and fender. Romeo reached down and unzipped the backpack and produced a spray can. The metal marble clanked around inside while he shook it, the sound was music to his ears.

  “Yo, Muerte!” Romeo called out when he saw the president through the caged window. “Fuck with us again.”

  Romeo knelt down, uncapped the bright pink fluorescent can and began to tag the bike with different pictures and SixGun sayings. SFFS was his favorite, right on the side of the gas tank. Oh wait! He needed to color coordinate! Romeo laughed as he grabbed another can and began coloring in spots with the matching fluorescent purple paint.

  Once he grew tired of painting, outright ignoring the threats that were being screamed at him, he plucked out a baggie filled with spoke beads in an array of bright colors, and attached them to the wheels. When he was done, he spun the tires, to watch them move like an abacus with each rotation of the wheel.

  “I’m making you my bitch for now, Muerte. This is for my brother’s bikes that you decided to steal. They found three bikes they liked, and they’ll get a number job in payment for the bullshit you pulled.” Romeo grinned as he reached into the bag once more.

  Romeo knelt down and held up a pair of little girl’s bicycle handlebar streamers, in pink and white, high enough for the asshole to see. He shook them to untangle the plastic tassels, then grabbed out his super adhesive glue to attach them to the grips of the bike. And for the finishing touch? A cute little bell was wired onto the handlebars.

  Romeo stood up and nodded to Hawkeye, Axe, and Wraith, giving them permission to fire up the bikes they chose for their own, getting them to leave quickly.

  “Load up!” He yelled out to the rest of the club, Romeo and Wolf the only two remaining members to be seen, other than the severely beaten Jan. “As for you, you cowardly piece of shit. The SixGuns is the syndicate MC in this fucking town. You best remember that and stick to your own territory. Consider this your first and last warning.”

  To add insult to injury, Romeo unzipped his pants and pissed on the bike. He laughed off the threats being screamed out the window at him. He nodded to Wolf, then made his way back to the truck where Zack was patiently waiting.

  “Light the bitch up.”

  Wolf grinned and reached into his pocket to pull out a book of matches. The yelling and threats grew louder as the men hurled themselves at the chained doors, trying to get out to stop Wolf from completing the inevitable.

  He struck a single match and placed it into the book, then tossed it to the ground. Everyone watched it bounce on the ground and hit a puddle of oil and gas. As Wolf turned around and started walking calmly toward the truck, the flammable mixture ignited and swept across the asphalt, engulfing the bikes in a metal bonfire.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Apollo was a little bummed that he was missing out on all the fun. Okay, more than bummed. It wasn’t every day that you got to run 66 with the club and do damage. Maybe next time.

  He had made other plans anyway, which would have been screwed if he had been able to roll with them.

  Before Thorne left for work, he told her that they had plans for the night, to make sure that she was ready by seven that night. He wanted her in a nice dress: the sexier, the better. She seemed surprised by his request, but agreed to it.

  While she was gone, he spent the day setting everything up. Just off her deck, he set up her patio table with a white table cloth, candles and roses in a vase in the center. Wine glasses were cleaned and set to the table, along with a wine bucket, the chardonnay on ice and ready for the evening.

  A bungalow tent was set up around the table, twinkle lights ran around the inside and through a couple of elephant ear plants giving the area a mid-eastern harem feel. A plush fur rug was set up in the corner with a multitude of throw pillows to give comfort. Off to the side was his portable CD player, with sounds varying from Enigma and Kaskade / Deadmau5 to Jesse Cook and Loreena McKinnett.

  The meal? Lobster and crab with red potatoes and corn on the cob, salad and crawfish bisque to start. He would thank his mother for that later.

  Everything was set and ready to rock and roll right before the sun began to set. She would be home in a few minutes. Apollo was quick to shower and get dressed in a pair of loose fitting khakis and a sheer white cotton beach-style long-sleeved shirt that he only buttoned to mid-torso, and left the sleeves rolled three quarters. It was casual, but still dressy.

  He could hear her moving around in the living room, just as he expected, so he had drawn the shades closed, hoping she wouldn’t look out. Apollo didn’t want his surprise ruined by her accidently seeing the bungalow basically set up in her backyard.

  Barefooted, he ventured toward her, though he had to stop to regain his wits. She was simply stunning standing there in a royal-blue dress that barely left anything to the imagination. He had nev
er seen anything like it, and he wasn’t sure what the hell was holding it up. It almost looked like a sarong, crisscrossing in the front with tiny gatherings of material at her hips. Low cut and barely covering her breasts, a bejeweled pair of spaghetti shoulder straps stood out against her tanned skin. There was no back to the dress, the hem coming to a stop just below her lower back.

  The only jewelry that graced her limbs was a small gold chain around her ankle that clearly accentuated the length of her legs.

  “Just…” Apollo shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts. “Wow.”

  Thorne turned slightly to look at him from under thick lashes, a stray curl falling lazily over her cheek as she blushed. “You don’t look so bad yourself.”

  “Only because you make me look good.” Apollo walked over to her and held out his arm to her. “Shall we?”

  “You’re barefooted.”

  A mischievous grin formed as he bounced his brows. “You might want to follow suit.”

  “Alright.” Placing a hand on his outstretched arm, Thorne lifted a leg just enough for her to lean over and slip off a heel, then she slid off the other.

  When she leaned over, it took everything Apollo had in him not to ravage her. Her dress opened just enough to give him a teasing glimpse of the crest of her breast and it was enough to drive him crazy. He cleared his throat and shook his head.

  Apollo placed his hand over hers and led her to the sliding glass doors. With aching slowness, he opened the curtains to reveal the tiki torch walkway that led right to the opening of the cabana.

  “Oh…” She exhaled as her hand came to rest at her chest.

  Sliding open the glass door, he motioned for her to step out. “After you.” He closed the door behind them and guided her to the pathway, making sure to keep his hand on hers, because if he had put his hand to her lower back, it wouldn’t have stopped there.

  Rounding the edge of the cabana, Apollo watched as awe spread across her face. Her eyes lit up with delight, her smile widened as she gave his forearm a squeeze before she released it to step deeper inside for look around.

  “You did all this?” She stood breathless with amazement, then glanced over her bare shoulder at him, then back to everything in the room again.

  “With a little help.” Apollo got more out of her enjoyment of what he had done for her than the act itself.

  “This is amazing.” Thorne whirled around and threw her arms around his neck, lifting up slightly on her toes to brush her lips over his in a quick movement.

  His arms encircled her, one hand on the small of her back to bring her closer to him. After the sweet, innocent kiss, he tilted his head down and whispered into her hair, “Anything for you.”

  Her blush deepened as she pulled away from him, though he was almost reluctant to let her go. She fit so damn perfect against him. He was falling for her and had been since he first laid eyes on her two years ago, but to see her like this, to feel her in his arms, willingly, was almost too much to bear.

  Thorne motioned to the CD player, demurely looking at him from the corner of her eye. “How did you know I like Stephan Moccio?”

  “I know a lot more than I let on, Thorne.” He closed the distance between them as a sultry JES song came on. “Dance with me?”

  Her brows shot up in surprise, followed by an almost silent nervous giggle. “Alright.”

  Apollo needed no more encouragement. His left hand took her right, his right hand sliding along her hip to the small of her back, urging her to step closer to him. When she did, her pelvis brushed his, causing him to catch the hiss that almost escaped. With a squeeze of her hand, he led her around the small area.

  The slow song lasted only a few moments, leading into a little salsa number by the Gipsy Kings, which made her ember eyes light up as she squeaked in delight.

  “This is one of my favorites.”

  Her voice was breathy as she twirled around, letting go of herself. Her arms were outstretched, her head tilted back as laughter filled the tent, her feet moving in time with the rhythm of the music.

  Apollo stood back and watched her dance solo, the sheer pleasure on her face was enough to thrill him to the very core. He had not seen this look on her face before and it was extraordinary. The lighting made her hair shimmer with blue undertones; her skin looked like caramel and soft to the touch.

  Her body movements stirred something near animalistic in him. That ultimate need to possess every inch of her body and soul flooded through him as her hips rocked in time to the beat. Apollo had never felt so feral before and he was growing to like this dominant side of him that planned on making Thorne his. Permanently.

  * * * *

  Thorne had been taken off guard by his invitation for a date. She wasn’t going to say no, but the idea thrilled her all the same.

  Dalton had surprised her with his romantic side: the cabana, music, dinner, candlelight. It was not exactly something she was used to. Yet, here she was dancing her heart out, letting herself have the freedom that she had kept from herself for so damn long.

  Her own laughter surprised her as she wound down with the music, stopping as the music changed to something slower. Carried away by her own response, Thorne failed to notice Dalton staring at her. Heat slammed through her body as her eyes met his. He was looking at her as if he were photographing her with his eyes.

  She couldn’t deny the spark of excitement that coursed through her as his eyes washed lazily over her, her body tightening at the very idea of him taking her out in the open. Her lips parted as she inhaled sharply when he moved toward her.

  There was no denying him and she knew that. The savage hunger for him rose like a tidal wave and she felt as if she were drowning in her own desire.

  Dalton reached out and hooked a finger under the shoulder strap of her dress and slipped it down over her shoulder, his eyes never breaking contact with hers. Releasing his hold on the strap, he moved to the other and pulled it down as well. The dress hung on her momentarily before it slowly slipped down her body, exposing her inch by agonizing inch to him.

  Thorne stepped out of her dress and moved toward him, impelled involuntarily by her own passion. He never flinched as she placed her hands against his bare chest, pushing back the shirt to expose his golden flesh to her. Head tilted back, Thorne ran the tip of her nose against his jawline. She could hear his breath catch as she nipped his chin in a playful jest.

  That didn’t last long. Her head was pulled back by the fist that had tangled in her hair, exposing her throat to him. His head dipped, teeth taking hold of her skin at her collarbone, eliciting a cry of delight from her.

  “Tell me what you want, Thorne.” His voice was husky as he lifted his head to gaze at her, keeping his hold in her hair.

  The movement caused her breasts to brush against the fabric of his shirt, sending sparks of fire through her, her nipples tightened against the chilling air. His question sent her mind reeling, her ability to focus was next to zero.

  “Answer me, Thorne.” He growled low as his teeth nipped harshly at her bottom lip in punishment for not answering him.

  Thorne hissed in pleasure, her eyes fell half way closed as the pain turned quickly into a jolt of pleasure. Her mouth opened but nothing more than a whimper came out; she was unable to speak.

  “Don’t make me punish you. I’m only going to ask you one more time.” Dalton tightened his grip in her hair, her head pulled back at a harsh angle.

  To be punished or not to be punished, that was the question. Shattered breath escaped her lips as her fingers curled against his chest, the tiniest of tremors raced down her spine. “I—I don’t know.”

  A single brow lifted as he tsk’d her. “That isn’t an answer.” He released her hair and spun her around so her back was to him.

  She gasped in surprise as his fingers dug into her hips as he thrust his pant clad hips against her ass cheeks, allowing her to feel just how much he wanted her. Thorne let her head fall back, the heels of her palm
s ran down his forearms until her hands covered his.

  Dalton interlaced his fingers with her own. “You’re going to touch yourself for me.”

  She could feel his fingers on top of her own, her lips parted and she took a sharp breath as he raised their right hands together and set them on her left shoulder. With aching slowness, he urged her hand down toward her breast, urging her to cup herself. Her eyes fell closed as she squeezed her breast, his fingers forcing her own apart, a rock hard nipple slid between them. Her nipple tugged outwards and Thorne could not stop the hiss of delight as he turned her hand just enough to twist the hardened bud before he allowed her to release it.

  Her breath caught and released slowly, her lashes fluttered open as the couple traced the underside of her breast together. This was completely undiscovered territory for her, exploring her body with someone else. Yes, she knew what her body felt like, but experiencing it like this? Was titillating.

  Her stomach muscled jumped as he used their nails to trail across her rib cage, crossing her naval to reach her hip. His breath was hot against the back of her neck as she pressed her ass back into him; a soft moan crept out from the back of her throat. Pushing her hand further down over her pelvic bone, her fingers brushed over her damp lips, her body ached to be touched, the teasing driving her near mad. She could smell her own desire as it mixed with the salty air, musky and heavy in the night.

  Dalton growled as he urged her hand up her thigh, inch by agonizing inch toward the inner side, brushing the edge of her index finger against the outside of her lips. It was a tease as he moved her hand over her apex, not allowing her to slip into the wet folds like she wanted to. She knew just how wet she was, she could feel how she was already pulsating with the need to be filled.

  Thorne’s head fell back against his shoulder, her back arched as he finally allowed the very tip of her finger to flick over her clit; her hips bucked back as she bit her lip from crying out in delight. Dalton pushed her hand further down and dipped both their fingers just inside of her, his other hand’s fingers tightened against her hip to keep her from grinding her hips down to force them in deeper.