by Voss, Deja
I do know exactly what I need to do.
When I caught Austin heading for Helena, the only thing I could see was red. Hell, if any man tried to touch her, I’d probably murder them. He’s lucky he’s one of my brothers or I probably would’ve shanked his ass. This woman has me all sorts of messed up. I’m struggling bad.
Seeing the hurt on her face before she walked out the door, you might as well have punched me in the guts. I fucked up big time.
The worst part is, I’m doing this shit on purpose.
I walk out into the parking lot. The moon is full, illuminating the treetops in this weird blue hue. She’s nowhere to be seen. I listen for her footsteps, pacing towards the road that leads to Olive and Tank’s, but she’s nowhere to be seen.
A loud sob startles me from out of nowhere. I follow the sound of her crying to the clearing on the side of the hill. She’s sitting on the big rock that overhangs the side of the mountain, the rock every single one of my brothers has come to smoke up, cry, scream at God, to get away from the burden that this patch has bestowed upon us. It’s the place you go when you need a reminder of how small you are in the grand scheme of things. She hangs her legs over the side, hanging her head in her hands.
“Helena,” I say softly, not wanting to startle her. The drop below isn’t as far as you’d think, but I don’t want to add injury to the insult I already threw at her.
“I’m sorry,” she says. “Please leave me alone. This has nothing to do with you, Brooks. I just drank a little too much.”
“Well if that’s the case, you probably shouldn’t be hanging off over the edge like that,” I say, sitting down next to her. It makes my heart race, being this near to her. It makes me feel good in a way, which makes me feel bad, which makes me almost feel like it’d be easier just to tell her to get the hell out of my life.
“You shouldn’t have punched your friend,” she says. “He was fine. I can hold my own.”
“Is that why you’re upset? Cuz I cock-blocked you?” Honestly, if that was the reason why she was mad at me, this would make things a whole lot easier. We could have a good laugh, and I could pretend like I wasn’t jealous as fuck while the two of them went off to live their best lives.
Instead, she turns and looks at me, the moonlight catching in her blonde hair, illuminating the tears streaking her face. “I’m not mad at you,” she says. “I’m just mad.”
“Well welcome to the club,” I say. I can’t hold off any longer. I’ve been dancing around this since the day she walked into our lives, and it’s driving me absolutely insane. “I’m mad literally all the time. You know what makes me the angriest?”
She doesn’t say a word. Maybe I should just forget about it.
Or maybe I shouldn’t. This is some deep shit. Some shit I haven’t even been able to open up to my brothers about. She’s the only person who could draw this out of me, and she needs to hear it now, because suppressing this is killing me inside.
“Being happy. Every time something makes me happy, I feel like I’m doing something wrong. I feel like I haven’t suffered enough for what happened.” She’s probably going to think I’m bat shit. “I was never an angry man in my whole life. I’ve seen some shit, but I figured it was just the kind of life I chose for myself. Losing Esther made me feel this rage I’d never experienced before.”
“You have every right to be mad, Brooks. What happened to her was very unfair.” I reach out and grab her hand. She doesn’t pull away, and I’m relieved. I need her to listen to what I have to say.
“Before she died, she went on and on about wanting me to be happy. She spent the last months of her life running around trying to make sure the club’s finances were under control, she willed all the guys stupid amounts of money that she’d sold her soul for a million times over; hell, she picked out her replacement for me without batting an eye.”
“Jasmine,” she says, as if a lightbulb just went off in her head.
“I’m scared to be happy, Helena. I don’t want to lose what I have left of her. My anger makes me feel like I’m doing right by her. As long as I’m mad, she’s right there on my mind.”
She squeezes my hand and we sit there in silence, the crickets chirping and the wind rustling the tops of the trees. I don’t know if she gets it. I don’t know why she would. I’ve been such a dick, sending her mixed signals from the start. It’s time for me to step up and be a man.
“Being around you makes me happy,” I say into the darkness. I swear my voice echoes through the valley below.
“Being around you makes me happy, Brooks. I like you very much. I’m not going to lie, seeing you with Jasmine tonight, that hurt. I’m embarrassed to say that. I know we’re not like… whatever… a thing…” I feel like a total tool. I might be a biker, we might have a reputation for being a certain way, but my father raised me to be a decent man. A loyal man.
“I don’t want you to hurt. You gotta understand, that Jasmine shit, for me, it’s not about sex or love or attraction or any of that really. To be honest, it repulses me.”
“You don’t have to say that,” she says with a smile. “She’s a knockout. She seems really kind. You have every right to be into her.”
“I’m not into her,” I say, laughing nervously. I’m probably really going to regret what’s about to come out of my mouth, but it is what it is. If she wants to be a part of my fucked-up world, she’s getting all of it. “I can’t even get hard for her.”
“Huh?” she stammers.
“My dick, it won’t fucking function. Have you ever had a good-looking woman straddling your lap with her tits in your face, desperate to fuck you, and you can’t even get it up? It’s fucking painful and frustrating. It’s torture. I think it’s like how people who cut themselves feel when they put that razor to their skin.”
Her eyes are the size of saucers. “Well, I certainly have never been in that position before,” she says. “Then again, my dick is hard twenty-four seven.” The way she’s trying to keep a serious look on her face is cute.
“All joking aside,” she says, “something you need to know about me is that I would never want you to forget about Esther. There’s no reason.”
I can’t take it anymore. This woman is perfect. I reach for her chin, tracing my fingers over her skin, and she gasps just a little.
“That beating up your friend shit… that doesn’t impress me,” she says. “You owe Austin an apology.”
“You want me to go do that right now, or do you want me to kiss you?” I ask.
I don’t need to wait for her to reply, the response is all over her face. She pouts her lips and smiles, and I press my face to hers, gently savoring the taste of tequila on her lips. The electric spark that takes ahold of my body makes me want to stop. It’s overwhelming. It’s right and I know it. I’ve wanted to kiss her for so long, and now that I am, I don’t think I’ll ever be able to quit. My tongue swirls with hers, my hands cupping the back of her head, desperately grabbing at her soft hair until she moans into my mouth.
I pull away, my hands quivering. Guys like me don’t get a perfect kiss all that often. I appreciate the simplicity, the connection, like I could do that all day every day for the rest of my life and be completely satisfied.
“Come back to the house with me,” I say, helping her up from the ground. “I want to show you something.” My cock aches in my tight jeans, urging me to just take her right here under the stars, but that’s not what I want to show her.
I wrap my arm around her shoulder and we walk down the dirt road, back to the house.
* * *
I’ve been planning this day for a week now. I even paid for Olive and Tank’s hotel room in the city just to get Josie out of the house for the night. It was so hard to hide my excitement this morning, knowing that tonight I’d finally get the chance to have Helena all alone.
The guys came over this afternoon and helped me clean out Esther’s spare room. Doing that was harder than burying her body. While I wa
s moving those cardboard boxes stuffed with her clothes, her wigs, her make-up up to the attic, I felt like my legs were going to go out more than once. I lingered in that hot dusty room upstairs, promising her I wasn’t trying to get rid of her, that I’d never forget her. Surprise, surprise, that shit didn’t talk back. It didn’t care.
Truth was, when all was said and done and all that remained in that spare room was a couple dressers and the vanity table, I didn’t feel any different. She was always going to be here, with me, no matter where her stuff was.
Trixie gave the room a good cleaning, washing the walls and shampooing the carpets, while the guys and I assembled a couple twin size bed frames. I’m sure being in your late 30s and sharing a room with your teenage sister isn’t ideal, and I’m sure the two of them wouldn’t stick around and put up with my shit forever, but I wanted Helena to know that they could.
That having them here has been the best thing that’s happened to me in a long time.
That they’d always be welcome under my roof, and safe here.
Azalea made the beds while Amber hung the curtains. It almost felt like the day of Esther’s funeral all over again, the entire crew gathered around reminiscing about my old lady, except this time it felt good. It felt liberating. I didn’t have to keep that door closed all the time anymore, afraid that if the breeze blew through the windows just the right way, I’d catch a whiff of her perfume and fall to the floor crying.
I didn’t have to spend every second of my day trying to make the world around me just as miserable as I was. I would never forget about her, no matter if all her stuff burned up in a fire. She wasn’t her stuff.
I felt like a new man. I couldn’t get Helena off my mind, how happy she was going to be when she came back and saw this. How I would be completely okay if she just wanted to sit on the front porch and talk like we do pretty much every night. How I was totally open to the idea of more if she was too. How she brought out a side of me that wasn’t some grab and smash asshole biker.
Then everyone left, and I was alone with my thoughts. I found myself in the attic, tearing through those boxes, scattering her stuff all over. I don’t know what I was looking for in my stupor. Maybe a sign that it was alright for me to move on. I wanted nothing more than to hear her voice tell me I was right. I was afraid that I’d forgotten what her voice sounded like. That I wouldn’t be able to hear it over all the noise in my life.
The silence made me mad. Mad in a crazy way, mad in an angry way, mad at myself, mad at my family for letting me do this, for encouraging me to do this, for embracing the idea that there was another woman for me.
I went to Jasmine because it was what Esther wanted. She knew I’d never love Jasmine, even if she ‘wanted’ me to. I went to Jasmine because, with her, I know exactly what it is. I know exactly what I’m feeling. I said I wouldn’t fuck with her anymore, but in some sick way, it was my way of hurting myself. It was my way of trying to hurt Helena and get her far away from this crazy life.
I don’t think Helena wants away from this crazy life, though.
I think she’s just as crazy as I am.
She knows Esther isn’t going anywhere, and she still doesn’t push. She knows that this house is haunted, but she stays here anyway. She knows I’m a no-good piece of shit, but she lets me kiss her.
I know that when we walk through the front door, everything is about to change. I know that it’s not just a bedroom that I’m showing her, it’s me begging her to stay.
It’s me begging her to be my person. My girlfriend? My friend? My partner? I don’t know what to call it, but I know what it feels like.
It feels like I’ve found the only woman who can make me whole again.
Chapter 18
I’m pretty sure my heart is racing so fast that he can hear it.
I’ve never been kissed like that before.
It was like being struck by lightning, leaving my brain fried and my body charged with electricity.
Now we’re standing on the porch, his arm wrapped around my shoulder, my head resting against his hard chest. We’re both dragging our feet. Prolonging the inevitable. I want to rip that leather cut off of him. I want to kiss his neck, lick his chest, touch and suck every square inch of his perfect body until he’s about to explode. I want to feel him inside of me.
I can tell his cock is stiff by the way he keeps adjusting himself, and it’s a power trip.
I’m definitely not Jasmine. But Jasmine doesn’t do it for him. It’s me, Helena, the girl who finally found her voice.
It’s me, Helena, the woman who waited her whole life for this moment, even though the fantasy died a long time ago.
I don’t want things to change between us, but I do. It’s exhilarating, knowing that once that door opens, there’s no going back. Once that door opens, it’s him and I in it together for the long run, or nothing at all. I don’t want things to change between us, but I can’t live in this gray area anymore. Friends or lovers. Partners or enemies. I’m hinging how I live my life on his next move, and it’s really fucking scary.
It’s been all about me for so long. It’s how I was raised to live my life. Take care of myself, and now, I feel like I’ve inherited so much more. A family, a renewed duty to my sister, him, Esther, the club… for once in my selfish life, I have a greater purpose.
I’m trying to focus on that, but his hand on the small of my back while he fumbles with the keys, the way he pulls me through the front door without any hesitation, not even bothering with the lights in the living room, nearly tripping over the couch as he guides me through the darkened house.
We go straight to the spare bedroom, and before I can comment on how nice it is, his lips are sealed to mine. My face cupped in his hands, my body melting, my brain only craving one thing, our tongues explore each other’s mouths with hasty desire. It’s been a long time coming.
I wrap my legs around his waist as he whisks me to the bed. He towers over me like a coyote preparing to feast on his injured prey. I can’t run at this point. I’m paralyzed under his spell. Just the moonlight shining through the sheer curtains, I relish the sight of every muscle, every tattoo, every scar on his broad chest as he strips down in front of me, his eyes fixed on my body while he tosses his leather cut and his t-shirt off to the floor.
“What are you waiting for?” he asks.
I’m waiting for my arms and legs to start working again. I’m a deer caught in the headlights, waiting for this eighteen-wheeler to come smashing into me because I’m too distracted by the way his boxer briefs cling to the top of his hips. Maybe he’s lean, but he’s a solid slab of muscle. I’ve never seen anyone so exquisite in my entire life. When his hand reaches for the bottom of my shirt, I nearly jump out of my skin.
He teases his fingers under the hem, licking his lips, his eyes trained on mine, and I gasp at the feeling of his rough fingers on my soft flesh. He takes his time, sliding it up inch by inch, using his tongue to draw a line up my stomach, and I shiver beneath him. He palms my breasts through my bra in his hands, roughly kneading at them, taking possession of my body. His moans of admiration as he pops the clasp on my bra, burying his face in my flesh, expertly tracing circles around my nipples until they are hardened peaks, my exposed flesh dotted with a million goosebumps.
I can’t take it anymore. I feel like I’m going to explode. Being in a dark house with him all alone is the only foreplay I need. I’m wet. I’m ready. I hook my thighs around him, grinding into his hard cock.
“You have way too much pants on for that to work,” he groans in my ear, dragging his beard down the side of my neck as he teases my flesh with his tongue.
“Fuck me, Brooks,” I plead. “I want you so bad.”
He unbuttons my pants, sliding them down my thighs, tracing his fingers over my panties, finding my wetness, teasing my clit, drawing a moan from my lips that’s more like a plea than anything. I need him right now.
“Holy shit, girl,” he moans. “You’re not ki
dding.”
I reach for his boxer briefs, tugging them down around his ankles, my eyes growing wide at the sight of his thick veiny dick. I wrap my hand around it and pump it up and down, nearly losing it as he roughly slides my panties aside, his fingers expertly finding their way to my soaking core.
He slides one inside and I squeal, my toes curling. He uses his thumb to strum at my clit, sawing his index finger back and forth along my g-spot, the pressure inside of me coming to a hilt. I’m about to lose it on him, and I think he knows it by the way I’m bucking my hips into him with a fever.
“You gonna cum for me?” he growls, pressing into my clit even harder.
“Oh my god…” I moan, my eyes rolling back in my head as my body shudders beneath him, drenching his hand, the sheets, losing my mind as I cum furiously.
All I want now is more. Everything. Now that I’ve felt him, I am insatiable.
He reaches for a condom from his wallet and I slide my panties down my thighs. As he lays on his back on the bed, that massive pole between his legs pointing right at me, my eyes widen at the challenge.
“You’re huge,” I whisper.
“You can handle it,” he says, licking his lips. “Get up here, girl.”
I straddle his lap, lining him up with my dripping hole. I gasp as I slowly take him in, my insides stretching to accommodate his girth. He clasps his fingers around the flesh of my hips, pulling me down until we are rooted together. I rock my hips back and forth, adjusting myself to this overwhelming sensation. It feels so good, but so foreign. I’ve never been with someone so powerful before. I dig my fingers into his chest and begin to slowly slide up and down, moaning every time he meets me with a thrust.
Our kisses are passionate, sloppy, punctuated with moans. His hands travel every inch of my body, pulling me in closer and closer. He fucks me like he needs me, like every cure to his ailments are deep inside of me.