by K. A. Ware
He pulled a pack of cigarettes from his pocket and silently offered me one. I quit over a year ago, for the most part at least, but given the night I’d had, I figured I earned a smoke. Closing the distance between us, I took the offered cigarette, bending forward so he could light it for me.
“What’s your name?” I asked, breaking the tenuous silence. As important as it had seemed three years ago to keep him nameless, it seemed even more urgent now to match a name to the face.
His tongue darted out to lick his lower lip as if he tasted me there. “Baz.”
Baz.
I rolled the name around in my head as I took a drag, letting the smoke fill my lungs and the familiar sting of the pull drown out my anxiety. It was almost certainly a road name, but when it came to bikers, their road name might as well be printed on their birth certificate for as much as they used their given name. It may not be the name on his license, but at least it was something more than Green Eyes.
“You want to tell me why you were at that club with a juiced-up douche bag who, for some reason, felt it was appropriate to put his hands on you?”
I blinked. The fuck?
“What?” I asked, my tone sharp, going from anxious to well past irritated in a split second. This man, Baz, or whatever the fuck his name was, had no right to question me.
He took a long drag from his cigarette, the cherry glowing brightly against the shadows masking his face. “I didn’t stutter, babe, and I don’t fuckin’ repeat myself.” His posture hadn’t changed in the slightest, still relaxed as ever. His casual demeanor needled at me, creeping under my skin and picking at old wounds.
“I don’t know who the fuck you think you are, but—”
Baz was on his feet in an instant, tossing aside the half-smoked cigarette, and in my face before I could even finish the sentence. “I think I’m the one who got you out of a fucked-up situation when the cocksucker you were with left your ass. I think I’m the one who just had his dick inside you. I think I’m the one who’s cum is running down your fuckin’ leg right now. That’s who the fuck I think I am,” he spat, inches from my face.
The fire that was in his eyes before roared to a full-on inferno as his voice grew louder with each point. He looked like a raging bull; nostrils flared, jaw ticking, and a thick vein bulging on the side of his neck. A smart person would be afraid. A smart person would consider that the pissed off man in front of them was twice their size, a smart person would remember that they’d seen this same pissed off man wielding a gun in a shoot-out less than an hour ago. In that instant, I was not a smart person.
My hackles were up, and I was ready to breathe fire. Refusing to back down, I took the small step I could, to get even further into his space. With our chests touching, I craned my neck to look up at him, doubling down on my anger out of principle more than anything. “None of that gives you the fucking right to question me about where I go or who I’m with when I go there. You don’t fucking own me, Baz.”
His mouth twitched at my use of his name, it wasn’t a smile per se, but it was close enough to make me want to kick him in the nuts.
“Yet,” he growled.
Oh, hell no.
I took half a step back and narrowed my eyes at him. “What?” I hissed, not holding back an ounce of venom because I knew, I fucking knew, he hadn’t said what I thought he said.
His eyes traveled down to my toes and back up again before he spoke. “I don’t own you, yet. But I will, eventually. And when I do, you’ll answer my questions without the fuckin’ attitude.”
Everyone has a trigger, that one thing that will set you off every time no matter what. Baz hadn’t pulled my trigger, no, he’d ripped the fucking pin out of my grenade.
“You smug bastard, how fucking dare you? I don’t let anyone talk to me like that, let alone some cocky son of a bitch I barely know. I’m not some little club whore that’ll eat your shit and ask for seconds. You wanna know why no pussy has been able to measure up to mine in three years? Because any woman worth a damn wouldn’t put up with your over-inflated ego long enough to let you fuck her. The only reason you got me to fall for your shit long enough to get your dick wet is because I didn’t let you talk.”
His lips twitched again, this time the corners turned up ever so slightly, and my palm itched to slap the barely-there smirk right off his face.
Baz’s hand shot out and tangled in the hair at the back of my head, holding me in place as he leaned further into my personal space. “I don’t remember you being this mouthy. I like it.”
I glared up at him, forcing myself to ignore the fact that my heart had started racing at his sudden proximity. I didn’t have time to get all hot and bothered, I was too busy being pissed off. “I don’t remember you being such a fucking piece of shit. I don’t like it.”
He growled, his chest vibrating against my still hard nipples and sending a shock of pleasure straight to my clit. This man pushed every one of my buttons, good and bad, which meant our little blowout was either going to end in bloodshed or with us fucking in a dirty alley behind a warehouse, again. Or, if the way he was looking at me was any indication, maybe a little of both.
“You’re a fuckin’ liar,” he whispered gruffly before claiming my mouth.
It wasn’t like before. It was much, much worse. We bit at each other’s mouths, my nails dug into his scalp, wanting to hurt him more than bring him closer this time. Despite my best efforts, the pain I was inflicting seemed to spur him on. The more I fought, the more he took until we were right back to where we’d been before with my hands braced against the wall and him fucking me from behind.
I was still sore from the first time, my pussy swollen from the abuse it’d taken, but I luxuriated in the pain. Pushing back into him with each thrust, I begged him for more with my body while fighting him every step of the way with my words.
“That all you’ve got? I thought you were a fucking man,” I challenged, relishing in the way my words sent his hips bucking impossibly faster.
Fuuuuck that’s good.
His hands twisted in my hair, forcing my back to arch. “You like it when I give it to you rough, babe?”
“Is that what you call it? I thought you were being gentle,” I shot back.
He released my hair and reached around to strum my clit. My legs began to shake, and I turned my face into my arm. Biting my lip, I tried desperately to stifle my moans. I wouldn’t give him the damn satisfaction.
“Greedy fuckin’ bitch. You love being fucked like a whore, don’t you? Tell me you want me to treat you like a little fuckin’ slut.”
My pussy walls clenched. Between his fingers playing my clit and his words I was so fucking close to the edge it hurt.
A little voice in the back of my head told me that what we were doing was wrong, toxic even. You shouldn’t get off from causing and receiving pain or spitting insults at each other. But we were, and it felt incredible. I knew I wasn’t the only one feeling it. He was right there with me. It was going to end in flames and utter destruction, I was sure of it, but I’d enjoy the hell out of the ride while it lasted.
“Give me the fucking words, Rabbit,” he coaxed.
I didn’t have another option, I needed what he was giving, and I was so damn close I could taste it.
Rocking my hips back against him harder, I gave in. “Yes! Fuck me like a whore, fucking choke me,” I demanded, letting him know exactly what I wanted knowing full well he’d give it to me without a second thought.
“Fuckin’ hell,” he breathed.
His free hand wrapped around my throat and squeezed, constricting my airflow as his hand between my legs worked even faster. Without warning, my climax slammed into me, my entire body going ridged in the most intense full-body orgasm I’d ever had. I was still convulsing with aftershocks when he stilled with his own release.
This time, he didn’t pull out right away. Instead, he stayed buried deep inside me. His cock still mostly hard as he rocked against me, riding ou
t the tremors of my orgasm and nipping at my neck.
“You’re gonna be the fuckin’ death of me, Rabbit,” he murmured into my skin.
I smiled at the nickname. I liked it more than I probably should. Hell, I liked him more than I should. But as quickly as he’d pissed me off, he’d given me exactly what I’d needed and never knew I wanted.
Chuckling, I reached behind me and curled a hand around the back of his head, running my palm over his short buzzed hair. “But what a way go, am I right?”
Baz pulled out and spun me around to face him, closing the distance just as quickly as he’d retreated. His big calloused hands cupped my cheeks.
“I’d die with a fuckin’ smile on my face, and even the devil himself would envy me,” he said against my swollen lips.
His mouth was soft and warm, his tongue soothing the bite of the pain we’d just inflicted on each other. I couldn’t quite reconcile the man who had choked me into a life-altering orgasm with the man who was kissing me with such tenderness. The juxtaposition of it made my head spin.
When we finally parted, something had shifted between us. I couldn’t quite put my finger on it, but something was different.
Without his big body wrapped around my smaller frame, the cold night air licked at my exposed skin causing me to shiver. For the second time that night, I shimmied my pants up my legs and adjusted what was left of my outfit.
Baz pulled out his pack of cigarettes again and offered me one, reminding me that I’d lost the first one somewhere between fighting and fucking. I took it and let him light it for me. Leaning against the wall for support since my legs were still a bit jelly-like, I watched him as we silently enjoyed our post-coital cigarettes.
The anxiety I’d felt earlier had dissipated, only to reappear when I shifted my stance and remembered we’d forgotten the condom, again. “I hate that I even have to ask this, but are you clean?”
He gave me a strange look like I’d told him the earth was flat or some shit. “Yeah, babe. I wouldn’t have gone in raw if I wasn’t. You on the pill?”
It was my turn to give him an are-you-fucking-kidding-me look. “I’m a single twenty-six-year-old woman, of course, I’m on birth control.” It was an IUD, not the pill, but it was birth control all the same.
He nodded and took another drag off his cigarette. “You ready to talk about the douchebag, or do you need me to fuck you into submission again?”
I rolled my eyes. “You can be a real dick. You know that?”
He shrugged. “And you can be a real bitch, what’s your point?”
Knowing I wasn’t going to escape the topic, I relented. “I don’t even know him, we met online, it was our first date.”
The slight narrowing of his eyes was the only change on his otherwise expressionless face. “Is there going to be a second date?”
I cocked an eyebrow at the ridiculous question. “You’re kidding right?”
He looked down, trying to hide his smirk and failing miserably. “Just checking.”
I couldn’t tell if he thought I was stupid or just fucking with me, maybe a little bit of both. “I’m still pissed about that shit you said, you know.”
Baz’s head tilted to one side, and he looked up at me, his mouth a flat line. “You’re mad at me for giving a shit if a guy put his fucking hands on you?”
The earlier irritation I’d felt was starting to build again. “No, I’m pissed because you questioned my judgment like I was a fucking child.”
“Did you not go out with a guy you’d never met who manhandled you?” he deadpanned.
Throwing my hands in the air, I looked to the night sky. We were still in the city, so the stars were dim, but it was an otherwise clear night. “That’s not the point, I’m a grown ass woman, I make my own choices, and I don’t answer to anyone. But for the record, of course, he was a douche, he took me to a strip club on our first date for God’s sake.”
His brows furrowed in confusion. “So? You’re a stripper.”
I found it extremely inconvenient that he knew that about me. But that’s what happens when you break your rules and take a customer to bed.
Tossing my cigarette to the ground, I squared off, ready for another round of battle. “Don’t even go there, I just watched you get into a gunfight. We’re currently on the run from the cops, and God knows who else, and you’re going to give me judgy eyes over my line of work? You’re not the epitome of moral fortitude either, buddy.”
His lips twitched like he was holding in a smile. “I don’t remember anyone forcing you on the back of my bike, sweetheart.”
And just like that, my anger dissipated.
“My options were limited,” I said, my voice dripping with sarcasm.
“For the record, I wasn’t making judgy eyes at you for being a dancer. I just don’t get why you were so annoyed about going to a strip club if that’s what you do for a living.”
“I strip because it pays the bills, not because I like eating dinner with pussy in my face, there’s a difference. And in case you were wondering, no, he didn’t know what I do for a living.”
Baz laughed, it wasn’t a loud belly laugh, but the smile that accompanied it completely transformed his face. It was infectious, and soon, I found myself laughing along with him at the ridiculousness of the situation.
He tossed his cigarette to the side and snuffed out the cherry with a heavily booted foot. “So, Rabbit, you gonna give me your real name, or am I just going to call you Rabbit forever?”
The way he’d said forever had my eyes flicking up to his. I was probably reading too much into it, but something in the pit of my stomach told me my instincts weren’t too far off.
“It’s Finley,” I answered.
The name I’d given myself fell too freely from my tongue, and with it brought Norah’s dark past. It was as if the spell we’d been under had broken, and reality came flooding in all at once. The entire weight of the night and the potential consequences that would follow hit me like a MAC truck.
Butcher had seen me. He knew my sister was with me, and if the manic gleam in his eyes was any indication, he hadn’t forgotten what I’d done. My head began to spin, and suddenly I was unsteady on my feet. We’d been safe hiding in plain sight for years, but what would happen now, how would I tell Stella that our past was coming back to haunt us?
Baz was suddenly there, his face hardened once more. He reached out to steady me and my hands wrapped around his forearms for support. “The hell? Rabbit, what’s wrong?”
I considered telling him the truth for about half a second and then discarded it. I didn’t know him, he had no loyalty to me, and because of who my father was, I doubted he’d help me even if he did.
“There was a man, outside the club. One of the Sinners, and then the guys that were chasing us. What if they find me?”
His jaw flexed so hard I thought I could hear his teeth creaking under the pressure. “That shit that went down tonight isn’t going to stand. My brother’s and I will take care of it. No one is gonna come after you. You got me?”
I swallowed hard and nodded.
“Gonna need the words, babe.”
“Yeah, I got you.”
I hadn’t trusted a man with my safety since my father had died. My gut was telling me Baz could protect me, but my broken and battered soul reminded me that I was the only one I could depend on.
Three
FINLEY
My mind was still racing, trying to make sense of the feelings being with Baz had stirred up, as we neared my neighborhood. Riding on the back of his bike, the worn leather of his cut beneath my fingers, the slight hint of cigarette smoke and motor oil, everything about him felt familiar and safe. But just as soon as I started to relax into him, the self-preservation instincts I’d relied on all my life kicked in.
As much as my body wanted to throw caution to the wind and ride away with him to a land of filthy sex and mind-blowing orgasms, my head reminded me it wasn’t possible. I had responsibili
ties and a life; I wasn’t going to throw it all away for a man on a Harley. I hadn’t busted my ass just to become a warm place for some biker to stick his dick, I wasn’t my mother, and I sure as shit never would be.
I grew up in the life, I knew what it meant to be someone’s property, I also knew how much worse being public pussy was, and both were a hard pass for me. Club life may have been something I aspired to be a part of when I was younger, but the older I got, the less shiny the image looked.
When I was sixteen, the curtain was lifted, and I saw exactly what the MC life was all about, and what role women played in it. My father had told me things were taking a downturn, but I hadn’t known what that meant until it was nearly too late. Thankfully, I escaped with only emotional scars. My sister hadn’t been so lucky.
I pointed out my house, and Baz pulled the bike into the driveway, cutting the engine. Holding onto his shoulders for support, I swung off and went to work on removing the helmet he’d chivalrously offered me before we left the industrial park. It wasn’t much in the way of protection, just a brain bucket really, a simple dome that flared out around the edges. While I was grateful for the sentiment, I could’ve used it when we’d ripped out of Moonlight’s parking lot and headed down the road at a buck ten.
Baz watched me as I finally freed the strap and shook out my hair before handing the helmet back to him. I stood awkwardly in front of him, unsure of what to do next. I hated feeling out of control, I’d carefully constructed my life, and any deviation, any situation where I hadn’t crafted an escape for every possible scenario made me itchy and uneasy.
“Thanks for the ride,” I said, cringing at the words as soon as they’d left my lips.
His mouth quirked up in that barely-there smile that I was beginning to notice happened a lot. “My pleasure,” he offered, winking at me.
And just like that, he’d made the situation a whole hell of a lot easier.
Rolling my eyes, I turned to walk up the driveway. “Have a good night,” I called over my shoulder, taking a step toward the house.