“Then I’ll walk out as fast as my legs can carry me. I’ll sob with embarrassment in my car as I drive home.”
“What if the bar doesn’t allow black people inside?”
Chanel grumbles. “Then I guess I won’t have to worry about him turning me down.”
“You should join E-Harmony.”
Chanel laughs as she turns around to face Seville. “I tell you what. I’m going through with this tonight. Even if it fails, I won’t have any regrets, I can say I tried.”
“If it fails will you sign up for a dating site and forget all his crazy biker crap?”
“I’ll sign up, but I doubt I’ll forget about asphalt cowboys.”
“Asphalt cowboys, girl, just stop it” Seville laughed.
“Hey, let’s go to Shoe Carnival, I need shoes for tonight.”
“Did I mention how I think this is a bad idea?” Seville states as she got up from the bed.
“Yep, you did.”
***
Taking a deep breath Chanel opens the car door and climbs out. She rubs her sweaty palms down the front of her skirt. She closely inspects herself in the driver side window. She looks good, in the high waist black mesh panel pencil skirt and matching top. It hugs her curves which she loves. Her shoes weren’t as high of a heel as she thought would look sexy, but these were a safe heel size. Anything higher she would end up on her face.
She takes a deep breath, then head to the front door of the bar. The sign on the door brought a smile to her face. ‘This is not Disneyland, Tourist are NOT welcome.’
Two more deep breaths and she open the door. She freezes in place. Seville and her words of warning immediately flash through her mind. Everyone turns to look at her. Her feet refuse to listen to her brain. She stood there frozen until someone behind her bumps her shoulder. They push past her as they enter the bar. Only then did she step completely inside of the world she’d only dreamed about.
Her eyes adjust to the lightening and she made a beeline for the bar. The bar stool is too tall and her skirt is too tight and narrow. She places her bag on the bar counter and did a little hop up onto the stool. The bartender, a tattooed, older blond leans in close. “Honey, what the hell are you doing here?” She asked. Her voice took on the tone of a concerned mother.
“I need a beer. Any kind is fine.” Chanel replies with a smile.
The woman leans back into her own personal space, but she didn’t move to get the drink. “Honey, you need to leave. We get women like you, all the time. It almost never ends well. I call it the Jax syndrome. You civilian women think that all the members of the SOA are real. I hate to burst your bubble, but this is a Revelators bar. This place is filled with Revelators and their supporters. There is no script and these guys will chew you up and spit you out and that’s if they’re in a good mood. So for your own safety take yourself home.”
She’d already done the hard part, actually walking through the door. Well the first hard part, the second is finding Eric Hardy and making him desire her. She isn’t going to leave now no matter what anyone said. “I do need a beer and I liked Tig not Jax.” Chanel smiles with more confidence than she’s actually feeling.
The bartender shakes her head as she pours a draft and hands it to her. “Bad decision,” she mumbled and walks away to wait on another customer.
***
He felt a tap on his arm as he releases the dart. It flew through the air and misses the board. “Asshole! You did that shit on purpose,” he turns toward Clutch.
“Look at the fresh meat” Clutch said with a wide grin and a point of his finger.
Mud Dawg spins around and follows the direction that Clutch is pointing to. Half a second later he felt his temperature rise. “What the hell is she doing here?” It was an observation, not a question, but Clutch answered anyway.
“It’s that show man. My dick wants to thank the creator for all the new pussy it has brought our way.”
“I know her,” Mud Dawg growls as he races towards her.
Chanel had only taken one sip from the mug of beer when out of the corner of her right eye, she spots something big with tattoos that heading her way. It’s all happening too fast. She isn’t ready. It’s too soon and he looks like a pissed off mass ball of fury. No, no, this isn’t the look she imagined on his face. It should be a look of shock with a slight, pleasant surprise and a glint of amusement in his eyes.
He stops right next to her. This is the closest they’ve ever been to one another She could almost count the hairs on his face. “Hi, fancy meeting you here!” She burst out. Ugh, did she just say that out loud? She picks up the beer and takes an enormous gulp. “Hi, I didn’t know you came here too.” Oh Lord Jesus that was even worse. Shit, shit, shit!
He looks so good he almost didn’t seem real. His deep eyes are alert and domineering. His long locks are messy, but sexy. She opens her mouth to speak again, but no words came out. Being here, seeing him up close and in person has shaken her to the core. This was a bad idea. What had she been thinking?
“What the fuck are you doing here?” He didn’t let her answer. He's thrown off his game. Never in a million years did he think she’d show up her. It didn’t help that his cock has betrayed him and sprung to attention the moment he saw her. “Get your ass up!” He orders her.
“Wait! Please, hold on a minute, I…” she didn’t finish her sentence. He grabs her by the arm and hauls her to her feet. She stumbles as he pulls her across the floor. The noise in the bar is down to a whisper and all eyes are upon them.
He kicks open a swinging door as they speed by the kitchen. He steers her down a hallway and into a storeroom where he slams the door close behind them. Tossing her up against the back of the door, he pins her with both of his hands on each side of her.
“Explain!”
He snarls and she likes it. If she bends forward half an inch she could kiss him but she didn’t. “I felt like a drink,” she replies with a half-smile. She meant for it to be sexy, but she’s pretty sure that she looks a bit psychotic.
“I don’t like repeating myself so this is the last time I’m asking and I want the TRUTH. What the fuck are you doing here?” He took one of his hands and grips her face tight. “Answer me!”
Fear is all she felt now. His moment of being her sexy fantasy man is replaced by a real life one percent biker. He isn’t amused or turned on by her. Not once when she fantasized about him did she think he’d be pissed off. Well, that’s altogether not true; she imagined angry sex just not real anger. “Today was our last day together at Motions.” She starts to confess. “I remembered that you said you would be here tonight and this was my only shot. I had to take a chance. I didn’t want to live with that what if feeling.”
“I own Kickers, the odds of finding me here is pretty good.” He didn’t lessen his stare. All the blood rushed from his head to his cock. This woman is going to be his Achilles heel he thought.
“Oh, I didn’t know that you owned Kickers. I guess I should have looked at all your personal information,” she chuckles.
He stopped himself from smirking. “This was your last shot at doing what?”
She let out a noise that resembles a grunt. Nothing had gone as planned so she may as well tell it all. Who cares at this point, she’s already humiliated. “I figured we both would be drinking. We’d talk for a while and once you were drunk. I thought that maybe I could get you would do me hard and dirty in the bar bathroom.” She forced a smile.
To hold in his chuckle, he has to look away for a moment. If she only knew the truth about how bad he wants her. It would probably scare her to death. He constantly pictures her being an obedient little slut for him. He wonders if she really would spread her legs and beg him to fuck her in the ways that he’d imagined. He pictures her crawling across the floor like a good little pet. Would she open her mouth and look up at him as he gags her with his long, thick cock? “Why do you think I need to be drunk to screw you?” He stares into her brown eyes as he let his hand glide down
to her throat. He likes the way her pulse is racing and the softness of her skin. He wants to lick her from bottom to top and everywhere in between.
“I don’t know. It’s just how I imagined it,” she nervously chuckles. “You’re not drunk and neither am I. If you would, please let me go. I’ll walk out of here with my tail between my legs. I won’t bother you again.”
He has a better idea on what he can stick between her legs. “So you thought you could walk in here in a slutty black dress and seduce me?” He wants her to stay, but he needs for her to go. This isn’t the time or place. In the back of his mind, he’d had other plans for her. He wants to do this right. Ease her into his lifestyle inch by dysfunctional inch. If she hangs around here she might get a crash course that will scare her to death.
“Actually, it’s a skirt and top. Anyway, that was my plan. It’s a bit flawed, but it is what it is.”
He glides his thumb across her bottom lip. He wants to kiss but he stops himself. “Go home Chanel,” he said in a hoarse whisper.” It’s tough not to act on his impulses. He eases up and releases his hold on her. If she stays here a second longer he’ll end up tossing her down onto the filthy floor. He'd slid his cock deep inside of her over and over again until she lay beneath him battered, broken and completely his. It’s what he wants, what he craved. He pushes her out of the way as he opens the door.
She feels defeated and way too sober to experience this. She should have started drinking before she got here. She tore her eyes away from him and looks out into the hallway. The bartender is holding her purse. She looks at Mud Dawg, then at Chanel and shake her head. “I told her to leave.” She gave Chanel her bag and walked away.
Chanel scoots by him as she mentally comes to a decision not to make eye contact with anyone as she heads for the front door. Everyone in Kickers is staring at her. Her stomach clenches when she realizes that he’s walking behind her.
Her step quickens as she nears the front door. Her hand slams against the metal bar with humiliation and frustration. She shoves it open and takes in a deep breath of reality. Her emotions were running rampant as she steps onto the sidewalk. He continued to follow her all the way to her vehicle.
As she fumbles for her car keys. In the process, she catches a glimpse of his reflection in the car window. He isn’t watching her. His intense glare focus down the street. She glances up to see what has peaked his interest and that is when he throws her to the ground.
Bullets penetrated her vehicle, sending glass raining down upon them. He shields her with his body. Her screams penetrated her ears. The moment seemed to last forever, but it had only taken seconds. Her brain is a tangled mass of confusion when he climbs off of her and help her to her feet. Her entire body trembled as he pulls her to him. He engulfs her in his massive arms. She can feel his heart pounding in his chest as he holds her safely in his embrace.
He smooths her hair down; comforting her as he whispered in her ear “I got you baby, it’s going to be alright.” He affectionately kisses the top of her head. So much for his plan to ease her into his lifestyle.
She couldn’t think. She isn’t sure if she’s taken a breath. Her eyes peep over to the people running out of Kickers.
“Are you alright bro?” Clutch yells as he dashes towards them. “That has to be some hood shit,” Clutch stated.
“I don’t think so man,” Mud Dawg replies. “Plus, we don’t have a beef with Quincy and his people.”
“That don’t mean they don’t have a problem with us.” Clutch said as he finally notices that Mud Dawg hasn’t let go of that woman. “Who’s the bitch?”
“Clutch, you need to show some respect,” Mud Dawg fired back. “This is Chanel, she works at Motions.” Mud Dawg eyebrows pulled down together.
“Oh, finally I get to meet her.” Clutch nods. His step brother has mentioned her a million times if not more. Which is out of character for Mud Dawg. Then, since his accident, he’s done a lot of things that are out of character.
Mud Dawg could tell that Chanel hadn’t noticed what Clutch said. She’s in shock. This isn’t that fucking way to show her his life. He squeezes her even tighter in his arms. His stomach is in knots. Somehow, some way he has to salvage this, but first things first. “If you got parole violation shit on you, dump it before the cops show up.” He orders Clutch. “Tell that dumb ass prospect Utah to do the same. I know he’s got shit on him.”
“I’m clean, but you’re right about Utah. I need to find him.” Clutch spots the prospect checking out the damage to another vehicle.
Another time, another place Chanel would have loved being in his arms. That was before she realized that some things were best left to fantasy. She pulls away from him and steps back. She stares at him with disbelief and shock. “I need to go home.”
“I’m taking her home” Mud Dawg said to Clutch. He drapes his arm around Chanel and pulls her close to him again. He led her towards his bike. He likes how she molds herself to him. It feels good, familiar, like they’d belong to each other.
“It’s not Easter motherfucker, go easy with that chocolate bunny!” Clutch calls over to him with a dirty laugh.
Mud Dawg raised his hand up and flipped him off. This starts a roar of laughter from the people standing outside.
They walk over to his big, dark green and black Harley Davidson. It has the number eighteen painted on the tank and designed into the leather seat of the motorcycle.
“Chanel, get on the bike.”
“Why?” Chanel stared at him. She feels disoriented. Reaching out she grips the bike to keep her balance. She prays that she didn’t have a panic attack. She hasn’t had one of those since her divorce became final. Nonetheless a Xanax would be great to have right now.
He cups her chin and turns her head towards her car. The windows are shot out, the tires are flat. Bullets have riddled the doors and something is leaking from underneath the hood. “You need to get on the bike, sweetheart.” He gently strokes her cheek.
“I can’t,” her voice quivered as she looks back at him with moisture in her eyes.
“Why can’t you get on the motorcycle? You don’t want me to take you home?”
Chanel glances down at her tight skirt. “I can’t lift my leg, it’s a pencil skirt, and it’s snug. I can’t lift my leg over the seat.” She frantically looked around for what she didn’t know. She should just call one of her friends to come pick her up.
Mud Dawg removed the knife from his belt. Chanel gasped and took a step back, but he gripped her wrist. He held onto her with one hand as he cut a slit down the middle of her skirt. The slash began just below the crotch of her panties and ventured all the way down to the bottom of her skirt. “Now get on the bike,” his voice is low. He pictured her silky smooth brown thighs wrapped around his head as he shoved his face between her legs. “Now Chanel, just get on my damn bike.”
She eyed at the motorcycle, then she looks back at him. This is a bad idea, but she climbs up onto the seat. She wobbles but manages to catch herself from falling. “I’ve never ridden before.” She calls over to him.
He places his helmet onto her head and fastens it. Then he hikes his leg up and straddles the seat. “That’s alright, it’s not hard, and all you have to do is hold on.”
“Mud Dawg, you need a helmet on.”
“My head is hard; in more ways than one.” He laughs. He could tell by her lack of response that his sexual innuendo had eluded her.
She places her arms around his waist, but she didn’t scoot forward. He reaches back and pulls her up close to him. “Hold on like I told you or you’ll end up on the pavement. Trust me when I tell you that’s not where you want to be.”
Chanel held on tight. The scent of him sent her back to the fantasies she’d had about riding with him on his motorcycle. This wasn’t how she’d pictured it at all. “I live on New Trail Road.”
“Alright.”
The club member that had called her a bitch strolls over as Mud Dawg starts the motorcy
cle.
“She’s going to fall off and make you have an accident. “We can get one of the eighteen Supporters to take her home. We don’t need you hurt again.”
“I won’t make him wreck!” Chanel found her voice. “I don’t want him injured again.” Without realizing it, she protectively rubs his waist.
Mud Dawg smiled.
“I wasn’t talking to you.” Clutch sent her a scorching look.
“I’ll be safe mom.” Mud Dawg joked as he rides off.
***
The cool night air stung her bare thighs and face. She tried not to feel excited about being on the back of his motorcycle. The immature girl inside of her hopes that someone she knew would see her on the back of the motorcycle.
It feels so good to be with him, roaring through the street with her arms draped around her man. She wishes.
He must not be feeling any enjoyment with her pressed up against him. She could tell by the high rate of speed he chose to travel on through the streets. He apparently wanted her off his motorcycle as soon as possible.
At a four way stop near her home, she leans forward and told him which direction to go. He nods and soon he is pulling into her driveway. He parks in front of her garage door. The twenty-minute trip took about half that time.
She removes the helmet and slid off of the motorcycle, “Thank you.” She hands the helmet back to him and she expected him to ride away; he did not.
“You’re welcome.” He hooked the helmet on the handlebar and climbs off of the motorcycle. He followed her up the walkway. He held in his groan as he watched her shapely ass sway back and forth. He reaches down and adjust his hardon.
Reaching into her bag she finally found her keys. She notices that shards of glass from the windows of her car were in her purse. She unlocks the front door and they step inside.
Seville sprints from the kitchen and stops dead in her tracks when she saw them. “What the hell happen to you?” Seville glared at the colossal biker with her friend. Is this guy? This can’t be him she stared at him.
“I don’t want to talk about it.” Chanel heads towards the kitchen for something strong to drink. With a heavy sigh, she tosses her shoulder bag onto the kitchen counter.
Revelators MC: Highway To Hell Page 3