It’s as if Drum has read my mind. Stroking his beard, now flecked with a little grey, he says thoughtfully, “Buster didn’t turn up. You think he’s got pussy somewhere?”
“Wouldn’t put it past him.” Turning back to face him, I give a shake of my head. Buster’s being far too much of a pain in my ass lately.
“Well, find out why he wasn’t here and fine him if he hasn’t got a good reason. All members attend church, even those heathens in Cali must know that.”
Buster recently transferred in from our San Diego chapter, but as part of the same club, we all follow the same basic rules and regulations. “I’ll have a chat with him, Drum,” I assure him while wishing Buster wasn’t causing me so much trouble. As if in synchronised motion, we both drain our drinks at the same time, and turn together to look out into the club. I reckon Drummer’s got the same idea in mind as me.
Heart and Bullet’s old ladies aren’t here, of course, party time after church is not for their eyes or ears. And I doubt Viper’s old lady would take kindly to seeing her old man's cock disappearing down the throat of Pussy, one of our most popular, or at least well-used, sweet butts. But she’ll never find out; brothers know not to share that shit. Me, I’m not tied to anyone and have no desire to be.
After my long ride today, I cast my eyes around to see who’s going to attract my attention tonight—one of the new girls or… Ah, there’s Chrissy making a beeline toward me as usual. It crosses my mind that perhaps I shouldn’t encourage her, else she might start getting ideas above her station, but fuck it, I might as well go for it tonight. She’s not as tight as she could be, but damn it, she can suck like a vacuum, and has hair down to her ass. My fist tightens in anticipation of wrapping it around her long locks as she’s on her knees in front of me, plump ass in the air as I pound into her wet cunt. Yeah, that’ll do me. Thoughts of the Englishwoman forgotten, I nod at Drum, who’s already got his eyes on Jill, currently sitting on Rock’s lap, and I give him a knowing nudge. Jill’s into twosomes, threesomes, you name it, and Rock doesn’t mind sharing at all. Reckon our prez is fixed for the night as well. Devils know how to party.
Without ceremony or small talk, I snag another beer, push away from the bar, and grab Chrissy’s hand. She’s got a cocky smile on her face as I lead her away. While not averse to performing in public, tonight I feel like playing in my room.
Chrissy’s fingers entwine with mine as we go out into the night air and up to the bloc where my room’s situated, her touch just a little too intimate for my liking. She’s someone to scratch my itch, nothing more than that. Opening my door, I pull her inside and waste no time getting her over to the bed. Reaching up her hands, she tries to pull my head down to hers, her intention obviously to initiate a kiss. Well, I’ve got no time for that shit and just want to get down to business. The ride was long and hard today, and now I just want another ride of a different sort. Keeping my face well away from hers―for all I know she’s just given one of the other brothers a blow job―I flip her onto her stomach, undo the zip on her tiny skirt and pull it down, taking her panties along with it.
“Up,” I tell her shortly.
Knowing what I want, she pulls herself to her knees and takes off her top and bra. Reaching around her I palm her breasts, but my enjoyment is diminished knowing they’re artificial and don’t quite feel like the real thing. But her ass is pretty enough, and the fact there’s a naked body in my bed is sufficient to make me hard enough to perform.
“You ready, darlin’?”
At her breathy confirmation, I wait no longer, opening the drawer to take out a condom and smoothing it on in one well-practised move. Tapping her ass and putting my hand under her stomach, she takes the hint and pushes her face to the pillows, her back bowing as she offers herself to me.
Checking she’s wet enough―she is―I push inside and start hammering away with only one intention, to get my release. As I thrust, I’m not really aware who it is under me—it could be Jill, Allie, or Pussy here instead. All of them know the score. But as I feel my balls start to boil and that tingling sensation starting in my spine, I know I’m close, and not being a bastard, want to make sure the woman I’m with gets hers too.
She’s moaning, pushing back into me, her muscles tightening.
“You close?” I ask.
“Yeah,” comes her breathy confirmation.
Reaching my hand down I start to toy with her clit.
“That’s it… Yeah… Oh, Wraith!”
As she comes with a little scream, I drive in hard a couple of times and then that blessed feeling as cum shoots up into the condom. Fuck, I needed that!
I roll off her, tying off the condom and dropping it by the side of the bed to dispose of later. Lying on my back, my arm up over my face, I wait for my breathing to slow and give her a moment to recover. Before too long I feel her hand on my now flaccid cock. I put mine on top of hers, stilling her wandering fingers.
“It’s alright, darlin’, I’m done.”
Opening my eyes, I see her pouting. “But Wraith, how about I suck you off?”
“Not tonight, darlin’”
“But…”
I put my fingers over her mouth, not wanting to hear her whining. “I said, no.” I wait for her to move off the bed, get her clothes and go. She knows the score. But instead, she lies back down and snuggles beside me. I scoot away from her. “Chrissy, I said no. I’ve had a long day and I’m tired.”
“Just let me stay with you then, Wraith.”
What the fuck? Club whores know not to push when a brother’s finished with them. The smell of sweat and sex mixed with the overpowering perfume she’s wearing is getting to me, and not in a good way. I just want her out of here so I can have a shower and grab a beer out of the mini-fridge in the corner of my room. Sitting up, I gather her clothes, still scattered over the bed and floor where they’d landed and chuck them at her.
“Just get dressed and go.” I’m starting to sound fractious, but she’s irritating me now.
“Wraith, I like you—a lot,” she starts, her voice sounding breathy like a little girl’s. Totally put on. “I was wondering—”
Whatever she’s been thinking about, I don’t want to hear it.
“Chrissy,” I growl, and from the way she sits back I’m at last getting through to her. “You’ve been a sweet butt long enough to know how this goes. Now if you’re not dressed in thirty seconds, I’m throwing you out of here naked.” I wouldn’t be the first of my brothers to do that.
That gets her moving, but not before she exaggeratedly wipes fake tears from her eyes. As I watch her dress, it dawns on me I might have been using her too often lately and realise I haven’t seen her with any other brother recently. Fuck, has she got designs on me? I make a mental note to avoid her, at least for the time being. Although it rarely, if ever, happens, the dream of a sweet butt is to become a member’s old lady, and if the brother is an officer, so much the better. I’ve got no desire to take anyone as an old lady anytime soon―if ever―and I’m certainly not going to be taking one who’s serviced all my brothers. Uh, uh.
Chapter Three
Sophie…
I haven’t a bloody clue what’s going on! When I asked Horse what the hell he meant by saying he was taking me somewhere out of Ethan’s reach, he just grinned, then asked me if I had some lighter clothing for warmer weather. Open-mouthed, I pointed upstairs to that domain of my house where I can no longer go. Now, overhead, I can hear banging and doors and drawers opening and shutting, so I presume he’s rifling through my summer clothes. God, I should tell him to stop―what if he packs my old shorts and skirts? They’ll be useless now! Surely he wouldn’t be so crass?
Cut’s stayed, presumably in case Hargreaves returns before we leave. They’d had one of those conversations in man language using grunts, nods, and the raising of eyebrows, so I suspect he knows full well where Horse intends to take me. But neither will let me in on the secret. The small smirk that Cut can’t hi
de entirely suggests I might not jump at the idea.
As the noise from the upper floor continues, I think back to the day I last saw my friend and remember the little Zoe had managed to tell me. But she hadn’t had any need to use words, one look at her blackened eyes and the way she was holding herself showed me the pain she was in. Ethan is a bastard, and now his focus of attention is on me. A shiver runs down my spine as I acknowledge how helpless and useless I am, and my only option seems to be to rely on Horse to keep me out of Ethan’s reach.
So wherever he’s taking me, I’ll go along. What choice do I have?
“Right.” Horse comes back down the stairs and into the lounge—he’s found my suitcase that was on the top of my wardrobe and it’s already packed full of clothes. “I think I’ve got everything you need from upstairs. Toiletries and that shit?”
“In the bathroom.” I point to the converted wet-room social services have made out of my downstairs toilet—it’s not huge, but big enough for me to get in to do the necessary, even in my wheelchair. “Er, can I check what you’ve packed?”
Throwing me a curious look, he puts the suitcase down, unzips it, then picks out some clothing and shows it to me. I have to admit, he’s done fairly well. He’s packed t-shirts, light jumpers, a couple of pairs of smart trousers and leggings—nothing that would be too short and not cover my stump and prosthesis.
“What’s that?” I wave at what he’s not showing me. His mouth turns up with a beguiling smile, and he lifts out all the sexy underwear I possess―and it’s quite a lot—lacy knickers, fancy thong and bra sets, and even a handful of teddies. Not that I have any use for them nowadays, but in my previous life it’s all I’d think of wearing. You never know when you might meet an attractive electrician in a broom cupboard. “No,” I protest, shaking my head violently. “You can put that lot back!” Those days are long gone now. “My everyday stuff is in the bedroom.” No need to wear anything now that’s not utilitarian and comfortable.
“Aw, shucks. You never know when it might come in handy.” Ignoring me, he examines the contents of the suitcase again.
“What about shoes?” Cut cuts in. “You haven’t got any, Horse.”
“I couldn’t find any.” Horse frowns, seemingly not happy at the implied criticism.
“I can’t wear them.” At their twin flabbergasted expressions, I explain, “I only have one pair, the ones the prosthesis is for fitted for.” As they exchange glances, I hate reading the sympathy there. And yes, another thing I regret with all my heart, I used to have a shoe fetish, buying new pairs to go with almost every new outfit, mostly high heels. One of my friends cleared the lot out for me very early on. They reminded me too much of what I had lost.
Getting off the topic of footwear, I point Horse in the direction of the kitchen. “I’ll need my meds, Horse. Could you make sure you’ve got them? They’re in a plastic container on the side.”
Of course, when he comes back in, he’s taking the lid off and examining the contents. “Tramadol, babe? Are you in a lot of pain? And what the hell is this, anti-depressants?”
“Losing a fucking leg can bring you fucking down, you know?” I wish I could get up and stomp around the room, but I can’t. I’m unable to make any show of temper other than raising my voice at his invasion of my privacy and thumping my hands down on the seat cushions. And then the perfect solution hits me. “Look, this whole thing’s stupid. Just leave me alone and I’ll remove myself from the equation altogether. It’s not like I’ve got anything to live for now.” And what isn’t a new idea seems the perfect solution all around. I wouldn’t be a burden to anyone, and Ethan wouldn’t be able to use me as a bargaining chip.
Horse moves so quickly, one moment he’s standing by my suitcase, next he’s leaning over me, a menacing look on his face. His hands are gripping my arms so tightly it almost hurts, and he shakes me. His face glows red—his lips have thinned as rage blasts off of him. I reel back as he shouts, “Killing yourself? Is that what you’re talking about? You’re fucking alive, and you want to throw that away?” I swear my teeth are rattling and that my arms will bruise as he holds me with such a firm grip. “You’ve got a chance to live; others aren’t as lucky as you.”
Well he doesn’t have to tell me that! That’s something I know only too well. I glare at him, feeling heat welling up inside me.
Suddenly he lets me go, but his intense eyes don’t leave mine. “I never want to hear another sentence like that out of your fucking mouth again! You’re coming with me, and I’m going to keep you safe. And I’m going to be taking charge of your medication.”
“You can’t do that.” My eyes blaze at him, fire I thought long forgotten returns. It’s my lifeline, my choice he is taking away. Why the fuck can’t I have the chance to put an end to my suffering once and for all? Whether I take the easy route out or not is up to me, surely? I’m not sure I’d actually go that far, but I’d like the option to be there. And maybe then I wouldn’t be so alone.
“Watch me!” Angry Horse, I decide, I definitely don’t like.
“I wouldn’t argue with him, sweetheart.” There’s something about the tone of Cut’s voice that tells me it’s best to beat a hasty metaphorical retreat.
Cut’s intervention kicks my brain into gear. I realise something else is going on here. It can’t be me he wants to protect so fiercely, but maybe it’s something else? Someone he couldn’t save, perhaps? Had someone close to him ended their own life? My features relax as sympathy takes over. Looking up at Horse I tell him quietly, “I’m sorry, Horse, but sometimes, it’s just so hard, you know?”
He stares at me, the expression in his eyes shuttered and haunted, then gradually his hands loosen. “Some have it worse, babe.”
I’ve been told that before, been told how lucky I was not to lose both legs or be completely paralysed. But somehow, I don’t think Horse means it the same way. I decide not to argue.
“You want me to take her and her stuff in my van?” Cut’s practical suggestion breaks the tension in the room.
“Yeah, I’m on the bike.” With one last lingering look at my face, Horse turns away and gives a chin lift to Cut, who starts busying himself folding my wheelchair.
“I’ll need that…” I start to point out.
“I’ve got arms, haven’t I?” Not wanting to get on the wrong side of Horse again, I don’t argue his suggested mode of transport. Nor do I get into a debate when he goes into what was the dining room, but now has been converted into a downstairs bedroom, returning with some of the winter clothing I keep there. I watch as he empties armfuls of jeans and sweatshirts into the case, and note he’s neglected to bring the plain white knickers and bras I wear nowadays. But again, I keep my mouth shut as he zips up the now full suitcase which Cut, having returned, picks up easily in one hand. Taking my crutches under his other arm, he disappears outside again. Finally, I purse my lips and say nothing as Horse pockets my prescribed medication.
Then, with a gentler look, he comes over to me. “Anything else you want to take, babe?”
This is all happening so fast my brain can’t keep up. I haven’t got a clue. I try to think. “Er, my bag, phone, and iPad.”
“Your iPad got a sim card in it?”
I shake my head.
“Well, you can take that, but we’ll have to get you a new phone. Don’t want anyone to be able to trace you.”
He slips the iPad into the pocket of my suitcase, passes me my handbag having taken out the phone, then moves closer, his features gentling, and a small smile appearing on his face. He reaches out his hand and softly caresses my cheek, his blue eyes gazing at me intently. He breathes in deeply then lets the air out as a sigh. “It’s all a bit much for you, isn’t it, babe? But don’t worry, I’ll take good care of you. You’re going to be safe. Trust me.”
I lean into his touch, welcoming the comfort. His kindness brings tears to my eyes. “Horse, I’m not normal, you’ve got to realise—”
“I’m not fuc
king blind, babe. Don’t worry. You’ve got special needs, I can see that. I’ll help you every step of the way.” Then, without saying anything else, he picks me up in his strong arms and takes me out of my house and away to God knows where.
Goodness knows why I should trust a man I only met today. But he’s saved me already when he chased Hargreaves out of my house, and unlike Ethan’s henchman, I sense no threatening aura coming off him. And Zoe had sent him to me—she wouldn’t put me in the hands of someone who’d do me wrong, would she? So without making any further protest, I let him carry me out of the home where at least everything had been adapted for me, and into an uncertain future, hoping to God I’m doing the right thing.
Cut drives me to Horse’s home, a flat in a block on the outskirts of Guildford. Parking outside, he switches off the engine and warns me we’ll have a bit of a wait.
“Where’s Horse gone?” I ask Cut, not really caring, but wanting to break the silence.
Cut taps his fingers on the steering wheel as if he’s impatient to get to something else he needs to be doing, which makes me think, while I don’t like the way Horse is pushing me around, I should be grateful they dropped everything to help me today.
“He’s gone to see his partner, Josh. He’ll be dropping his bike off so Josh can put it in storage for him.”
At that moment, a van pulls up behind us, emblazoned with the emblem of a local garage. I take a moment to admire the decal painted on the side—it’s a beautifully painted picture of cars and bikes. Watching in the side mirror, I see Horse unfold himself from the passenger seat and go around to the driver’s side.
His voice is loud and I can hear every word. “Thanks for this, mate. I’ll let you know when I’m coming back.”
I can’t hear the response, but then Horse continues, “Yeah, it will probably be September as usual.”
September? Doing the quick calculation in my head, I realise that’s seven months away. Surely he isn’t taking me somewhere for that long? I’ll lose my job for sure—not that I want it—but, fuck it, months? I thought a few days and I’d be back home. Realising I need to know just what I might be letting myself in for, I resolve to start asking him some questions as soon as I can.
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