by Forgy, M. N.
I need to go home. I want my bed, a shower, maybe some food. My stomach coils at the mention of food, and I belch. Maybe we will wait on food.
Turning from the parking lot, I drive the long journey home, ready for my walk of shame.
Mac
Riding my motorcycle down the freeway, lights flash behind me. I’m not speeding, so what the fuck? Glancing in my rearview I spot a police car right behind me. My brows furrow. It’s odd for me to get pulled over, I’m a Sin City Outlaw, and nobody pulls us over because everyone is in our club’s pocket. Including the police department.
I pull over to the shoulder, curious what is going on. Turning my motorcycle off, I balance my bike with my feet, and pull a cigarette from the pack, placing it between my teeth. Black shiny shoes stomp onto the pavement as a big burly man heads my way. He tugs on his utility belt, his huge belly pushing it back down.
His eyes scan the back of my bike before slowly sizing me up. It’s like a fucking staring contest.
“You Mac?” he finally asks, his double chin jiggling. I could totally make a run for it, he’d never catch me. Unless he has a canine… I glance at his car but can’t tell if he’s a canine unit or not.
I scowl at the pig.
“Yeah, why’d you pull me over?” Tilting my head to the side, I raise my hand to block the sun from my eyes.
The cop reaches over, clutching me by the elbow tugging me from my bike.
“You’re under arrest.”
My cigarette falls to the ground as I jerk my hands, my foot kicking the kickstand down before my bike falls to the ground.
“What the fuck for!”
“Shut up!” He jerks me off the bike and slams me onto the hood of his car, the metal hot against my face.
“You’re really going to fucking regret this,” I grit as he slaps cuffs on my wrists. The metal biting into the skin of my wrist.
Grunting, he pulls me off the hood and shoves me toward the back of his car. Opening the door, he throws me inside. I fall sideways into the back seat. Using my feet, I push myself onto my ass as the big man climbs behind the wheel.
“You going to tell me what the fuck I did?” With every harsh breath, my hair blows from my face.
He ignores me, quietly talking into his radio. Sirens on now, he pulls off the side of the road, and my heart skips a beat.
“I can’t just leave my bike like that, someone’s going to fucking steal it.” Looking over my shoulder, we get farther and farther away from it. This asshole doesn’t care if it gets stolen and will cover his tracks to hold no responsibility if it does.
“You stupid fuck!” I slam my head against the plexiglass, angry and unrestrained.
He glances in the rearview mirror, worry wrinkling his forehead for a brief second before he focuses back on the road.
“You better hope my boys don’t catch you before we make it to the station.” Warning growling in my voice.
We don’t get pulled over, and when we do… whoever is doing the arresting won’t be arresting anybody any time soon after we’re done with them. We are the Outlaws of Vegas. We make the law and dish out the repercussions. It’s always been like that, and it’ll never change. This fucker is going to figure that out when I’m done.
The short ride to the station does nothing to ease my anger. As soon as the cop opens my door, I throw myself sideways and strike my boot right into his chest. He stumbles backward; the fat fuck.
I shuffle out of the car, ready to fight this pig handcuffed.
“You little son of a bitch.” He reaches for his Taser and I tense, readying myself for the volts to race through my body.
“That’s enough, Grundy,” a female voice commands from behind us. Turning my head, a tall woman in a dark blue pantsuit, dark hair spilling over her chest, stares at us with her hands on her hips. She’s hot, but a fucking cop nonetheless.
“This motherfucker arrested me without reading me my rights!” I inform her. Her face bored, she saunters over to me and gently holds me by the cuffs.
“This way.” The words fall from her mouth like silk, but if I know anything about her kind… it’s poison.
Marching through the station, she takes me right to her office. Clean and smelling of strong coffee. She points to a gray chair sitting in front of her pristine desk and shuts the door behind us.
I sit, but with my hands cuffed behind me, it’s not very comfortable. I’m more lopsided.
“You wanna tell me what’s going on?” I raise a brow. She starts rolling down the blinds to each of her office windows, keeping wondering eyes from snooping in.
“Do you remember July 7th of this year?” she fishes. I bite my bottom lip, thinking back. That’s the day we had to fetch money for the mafia, playing errand boys. Machete got carried away and beat the fuck out of a casino security guard. Taking orders from the mafia isn’t our forte.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I look at the floor, acting aloof. Like I’m going to tell her anything, she’s fucking dumb for a lieutenant,
“Oh, no?” She grabs the remote off her desk, flipping on the TV sitting on the shelves behind her. There it is, all in black and white. The Sin City Outlaws shaking down the casino bosses at Fimingway, and Machete beating the daylights out of a man who thought he was going to save the day with a pistol. I knew steps had to be taken, so then you see me walking into the main office taking tapes from the recorders. Looks like I forgot one, though. Fuck!
I hang my head.
She clicks the TV off and sashays to the front of her desk. She slowly slips her pretty little ass on the lip of it, her heels resting right in between my legs on the chair.
She slips a piece of paper off her desk and holds it up in front of me.
“Do you recognize this tattoo?” It’s an eagle with fire wings. It’s the insignia of a new upcoming gang on the lower east side. Pests if anything, they won’t last long.
“Why?” Taking my eyes from the image to her, I fish in return.
“You know who it belongs to don’t you?” her perfect brows raise, her lips pursed.
I look away and scoff. “I’m not a rat, babe.”
Her heel between my legs casually slides farther up, nudging my balls. I can’t tell if it’s a threat or seduction.
“I’ll tell you what, you tell me who this belongs to, and I will make this tape disappear.”
I glare in her direction. “You’re in our pockets, you should make it disappear anyways!” My voice raising. We have a deal with these fuckers, we leave them alone, they leave us alone.
“This fucker raped a little girl who is now in the hospital. I can’t find this tattoo in our database, and nobody is speaking on the streets. Tell me who it is, and I will scratch your back further than you can imagine, Mac.” Her voice becomes sultry, the tip of her heel caressing my jean-clad cock.
I smirk. She wants my dick. Normally I’d make her beg, but the vile piece of shit who likes to rape little girls needs off the streets, and I don’t see helping Lieutenant Lopez in doing that as ratting. More of a good deed for my city, which I haven’t done in a while. I’m overdue.
“It’s the Starling Gang. They just started up down south of the state. That’s all you get,” I bite my bottom lip, my eyes wandering over her tight body. Curiosity beads at the tip of my dick. I wonder if her nipples are pierced, or if she has a tramp stamp beneath that superior act.
She smiles. “See, easy as that.” She tosses the photo over her shoulder and slides into my lap. Her hands on each side of my face she kisses me hard. Not just a kiss that you’d present any one-night stand, but one as if she’s wanted to kiss me for far too long. It’s desperate, reeking of attraction.
I’m curious what she fucks like, and what’s beneath this act of hers… so I kiss her back, her mouth surprisingly tasting of whiskey.
“Drinking on the job? You’re more twisted than I thought, Lieutenant.”
“Shut up!” She slaps me across the face, my face co
ntorting into shock. Pain blooms across my cheek, but my cock throbs with excitement. I did not see that coming… Her dark eyes stare at mine, and within seconds our mouths clash against each other again, our breaths labored and bodies anxious. The chair flips over, but she doesn’t stop. She unbuttons my jeans and pulls my cock out like she’s unwrapping a birthday gift.
Her eyes lift to mine when she spots the barbell. I jut my chin out, summoning her to either ride it or get the fuck off. I got shit to do. Fisting my cock, her hand is cold like a nurse’s, but that doesn’t affect me in the least.
She drops her pants to her ankles, kicking a leg free from the material, her silky hand pushes me inside of her. Wet heat surrounds me as her body weight falls onto my hips, and the damn cuffs cut into my wrists. Her head lolls back, her heat slick and somewhat tight. I need to remember to get checked after this, who knows where this bitch has been.
Using her legs, she pumps herself up and down. Her shirt hiding any glimpse of her sex. I wonder if she’s shaved, or as hairy as cousin IT. She takes pleasure from me as I’m restrained and stuck in a shitty chair that scoots across the floor with every thrust. She’s a bad bitch, obviously used to getting what she wants. Some might find it sexy, I find it desperate. She’s a dirty little shit.
My balls strain with pressure, the sliding in and out of her pussy pushing me to climax. She bites down on her bottom lip, her body tensing as she comes on my cock, and I come seconds later. It’s not strong, or eye roll worthy, but busting a load is busting a nut. Her eyes open, a devilish smile spreading across her face. She stands, pulling her pants back up.
Out of breath, she steps behind me, the cuffs shuffling on my wrists as she undoes them. As soon as they’re released I sigh with relief. I pull my hands to where I can see them, and purple rings mar my skin, my fingers throbbing from the lack of blood flow. Not wasting any time, I jerk my jeans up and button them, ready to get the fuck out of here.
She looks at the photo on her desk with pointed eyes, her brows furrowed.
“I’ll be in touch Mac! Grundy, he’s ready!” she calls to her little piggy.
I’m dumbfounded. This bitch has some nerve to fuck me like a toy and throw me out. I’m not sure if I find it sexy, or completely slutty. Then again, I am an Outlaw. This is as good as it gets for me. Dirty sex on in a stained chair with a bitch who probably fucked her way to the top.
Fat man Grundy walks in, placing his hand on my shoulder. I flinch, not liking to be touched.
“Get your greasy fucking hands off me.” I point at him. “Let me catch you on the streets out of uniform,” I threaten. Grundy swallows, looking to the lieutenant for back up, but she’s too lost in the photo of the tattoo to say anything.
I run my hands through my hair and crack my neck. Not taking my eyes off him.
“Later Lieutenant.”
Walking through the station every turn the other way, avoiding eye contact. Pressing my hand on the glass, leaving a smeared print behind, I step outside to find my brothers ready to rampage the place, and my bobber parked and waiting for me. I chuckle, my right hand rubbing the scruff on my cheeks.
My president, Zeek, stands next to his bike, his hands in his black jeans that match his dark hair.
Felix, our vice president, straddling his bike while he puts his hair up, ready to fight.
Machete, the animal of the pack, picking his teeth with his Machete casually as he leans over the gas tank of his motorcycle.
This is my family. I’m in the station for less than twenty minutes and my men are here without me having to say a word. It was probably one of the cops deep in our pockets that called them, informed them I was brought in. Still, for them to have my back without knowing what the hell I might have done. That’s fucking loyalty.
“I took care of it boys,” I inform stepping down the stairs of the station.
“You sure?” My president Zeek give me a concerned look.
Straddling my bike, I smile in his direction.
“She wanted the Starling Gang, and in exchange, I got some pussy, and a tape I forgot at the casino the night Machete went cowboy.” I give Machete a sideways glance. He shrugs, and Felix laughs.
“How was the pussy?” Zeek smirks, climbing on his bike.
I grab a cigarette and place it between my teeth.
“I wouldn’t bring her home to Momma anytime soon, but you know me, I don’t turn down pussy,” I chuckle.
The boys laugh, and we all start our motorcycles, following Zeek back to the club.
Chapter 5
Simone
“Simone!” My mother gasps in horror as I walk through the front door. I tried to wipe up as much smeared makeup as I could in the car, but there wasn’t much hope for the mess that I am this morning. “Where have you been?” she snaps, but I ignore her and head up the marble stairs to my bedroom. She follows, the click of her heels drilling into my head.
“Please tell me you didn’t do what I think you did?” she whispers.
“Depends, what do you think I did? I did a lot last night,” I laugh, and then wince. Everything hurts.
Walking into my room, I head straight to the bathroom. Pulling off the itchy dress I step out of it and turn the shower on. Resting my head on the tiled wall, I realize I forgot my lingerie at the hotel. Oh well, it’s not like I’ll be needing it anytime soon.
Mother flurries into my bathroom, her long braid swishing between her shoulder blades, and her red gown flowing behind her.
She shuts the door behind her, worry wrinkling her face when she looks in my direction. My being naked not affecting her at all.
“Can this please wait,” I beg. I just need some sleep, Advil, and for her to go away.
Her eyes widen to saucers, her hand coming to her mouth to stifle a gasp.
Gazing into the mirror to see what has her in such a horror, I spot a hickey on my collarbone. It’s very light, but definitely a hickey.
I turn away from her and rest my hand on my shoulder. My arm covering it.
“If you,” she hesitates. “If you gave yourself to another man last night thinking it would make this whole thing with Veer go away, you were very VERY wrong!” she snaps, her eyes filling with tears. My heart skips a beat, worry stabbing me in the chest.
“Why?” I face her head-on, not caring what she sees.
“Veer has told everyone in the last twenty-four hours he is to marry you. He has a wedding coordinator coming to organize everything you desire for the perfect wedding. Simone, if you make a fool of him… he will kill you and your father for setting him up for a false arrangement.”
I look at the floor, not thinking about the fact Veer would retaliate in such a way. I figured I would take the virginity out of the cards and he would move on to a new woman. How naïve of me.
“Oh God, you did, didn’t you? You went out there and- and laid with another man—” She begins to cry, not helping my anxiety.
“Mom!” I snap at her, and she flinches. I slept with two men actually, but I don’t tell her that. She’d likely have a heart attack. It’s still taking me time to wrap my head around what the hell I did last night. “I’ll figure something out. I always do, right?” My question is weak, and Mother and I know it. Her lips stretching into a fine line, and she nods to me. I have no idea how to fix this. I gave something away I cannot get back.
Turning my back to her I step into the warm water cascading from the showerhead. She pulls the curtain closed and leans against the wall next to the shower.
“I’m sorry,” she whispers. The sound of the water hitting the floor of the shower muffles her words. “I know Veer is not the man for you, but we are blessed with many things, Simone, and having an arranged marriage isn’t the worst.” The way she says the words, I can tell she doesn’t mean it. It sounds like something my father would say.
I scoff at her attempt to lecture something she has no idea of. “That’s easy for you to say.”
“Your father wasn’t my first choice
either, it was arranged,” she informs. The warm water hitting my back suddenly feels cold at the news.
I pull the curtain open to look at her, this is the first I’ve heard of this.
“What?”
She smiles fondly. “I hated your father when I met him. He was so arrogant, and bossy. Telling me how we were going to get married, that I was moving in with him and leaving my family. It wasn’t until I had you that I really fell in love with him. He was so nurturing and caring. Our stubborn walls broke down over time, and we saw each other for who we really were.” Her face glows as she recalls her and Dad’s past.
Wet hair in my face, I look at my mother in a whole different way. I don’t know if she’s strong or brave for living with a man she hated.
Lifting her head, shoulders back, she shakes her head.
“Don’t be a fool, Simone. You’re very stubborn, and your worst enemy at times. I fear I can’t save you this time, my dear.” She shakes her head and walks out of the bathroom with streams of tears down her tanned cheeks.