by Lane Hart
When she points back toward the building, I conclude that she’s stupidly telling them which apartment is hers. Doesn’t the girl possess any sense of self-preservation? At her size, a prepubescent boy could easily overpower her. These two meatheads? Well, they could break her in half before she knew what hit her!
I want to yell at her from my balcony to get her ass back inside.
Instead, I decide a face-to-face confrontation is a better idea.
And for the first time in weeks, I’m actually looking forward to putting on my Dirty Aces cut and all the violence it represents.
Chapter Eight
Lucy
* * *
“So, you’re pretty new in town?” Billy, one of my new pool acquaintances sitting on the lounge chair beside me, asks.
“Yeah, I haven’t been here long,” I answer.
“Where did you move from?” Gary questions from my other side. It’s been a little intimidating having two big men sandwich me in and bombard me with questions about myself while all I’ve gotten out of them are their names and that they live on the fourth floor even though I’ve never seen them around.
“I’m originally from around Concord.”
“That’s all the way over in the western part of the state right, near Charlotte? Long way from home,” Gary says.
“Just a few hours really.”
“You must be lonely out here on your own,” Billy remarks.
“I’ve already made a few new friends,” I assure them, so I don’t come off as a weak victim no one would check on if they decide to kidnap and murder me.
Speaking of the devil, who I don’t yet consider a friend since he only tolerates my presence, Nash strolls through the gate surrounding the pool wearing his leather cut for the first time since I moved in. Sure, I’ve seen him going in and out of the building on beer runs, but he’s right, I haven’t seen him in the cut before now. That’s why I panicked earlier in his apartment and left since I couldn’t explain how I knew about his involvement with the Dirty Aces.
I’m not surprised when he comes over and stops right at the foot of my lounger. I am taken aback, though, when instead of speaking to me, he first says, “You two boys lost?”
“Nope, we’re good,” Gary quickly answers, although he does share a quick glance at Billy. Both of these guys are the same size if not broader than Nash, but they do seem a little nervous after that single question. I’m not an idiot; I know they don’t live in our apartments but are probably crashing to use the pool and try to pick up girls. I don’t want to think too hard about why they would want me instead of the three other women nearby in skimpy bikinis.
“What’s up, Nash?” I ask since he hasn’t moved. He’s just staring down both guys. Although, a few times, like right now, I’ve caught his eyes doing a quick sweep up and down my barely clothed body before glancing away like he doesn’t want to look at me but can’t help himself. And not for the first time, I go back to thinking about what exactly led to the bulge in his sweatpants yesterday morning. I’m so far out of this sexy man’s league it’s not even funny, this I know. But that doesn’t mean I can’t fantasize a little about him wanting a scrawny girl like me.
“You said you’re good at finding shit online,” Nash grumbles, snapping me out of the thoughts in my head about him throwing me over his shoulder and fucking my brains out on the closest hard surface.
“Yeah?” I ask, fidgeting nervously with the cups of my bikini when my nipples harden, giving away my dirty daydreams.
“I need your help with something.”
“Okay, sure,” I agree, surprised by his request.
“Tonight,” he adds sternly like he won’t take no for an answer.
“Tonight?” I repeat, turned on even more by that small show of dominance. It’s so unfair that he not only looks like a male model turned bad boy in his leather, but that he could make a command sound so hot that I could never deny him anything. Still, I have to pretend like I won’t bend over backwards to his every whim. “It can’t wait until tomorrow?” I ask.
“No.” His amber gaze holds mine hostage, jaw clenched so tight he may chip a tooth if he doesn’t get his way.
“Fine,” I agree with a sigh, pretending I’m caving in reluctantly when inside I’m thrilled to spend more time with Nash tonight.
Swiveling my legs around to the side of the lounger, I get to my feet and grab my towel and cover up. “Guess I’ll see you around,” I tell the boys.
“Yeah, see you around,” Billy agrees.
“Not if you’re smart,” Nash mutters under his breath before he starts to the gate with me following behind him like a lovesick puppy.
I tell myself that my infatuation with him is just a distraction to try and forget about the man who recently broke my heart. And it feels safe to drool a little over Nash since I’m sure he would never sleep with me or even flirt with me. Actually, I’m surprised he even wants to talk to me.
Nash
* * *
Fuck me.
My plan to lure Lucy away from the two meatheads worked, but now what am I going to do? I told her I needed her help, so I have about two minutes until we’re inside her apartment when I have to tell her what exactly it is that I need.
To buy a little more time when she goes to unlock her door, I think fast and ask her, “You got any beer?”
“Nope.”
“Then let me grab some from the fridge first,” I suggest before taking off up the steps to my place when she lets herself into the apartment.
As I reach into the fridge to grab a fresh six pack, I’m hit with the all too familiar reminder that the number of beers I can drink in an hour is the same number of men the Aces and I killed just a few weeks ago when we raided Harold Cox’s house.
That’s when an actual job for Lucy comes to me. It’s one that is crazy and a little dangerous, but since I haven’t had any luck finding the family members of the five dead guards, it wouldn’t hurt to have her give it a try. She won’t ever have to know why I’m asking for the addresses. If she asks, I can just lie and say that they were my brothers who died when the Ace of Spades MC came crashing down.
On the way out the door, I stop by the bedroom to grab the printed pages of their obituaries from a drawer in my dresser and take them and the beers downstairs before I chicken out.
Maybe I’m still not thinking clearly after seeing Lucy practically naked in front of those dickheads who were trying their best to get an invitation back to her apartment so they could fuck her. Tomorrow, when I’m more sober, if that’s even a possibility, I’ll probably want to punch myself for sharing these names with her. But tonight? Well, fuck it, I don’t give a shit what I have to do as long as I keep those assholes’ hands off her. Of course they would think Lucy’s an easy target – a new girl who is alone and doesn’t know anyone around here, weighing about as much as a sack of potatoes. One of them could easily overpower her and is way more than she could dream of handling. Two of them together? Fuck, they would put up one hell of a fight for me.
What was she thinking sitting down there talking to those assholes? Was she seriously into one or both of them? Maybe there’s more to the sweet little pixie than meets the eye and she’s actually a freak in bed who enjoys gang bangs.
Heading into her open apartment door that I shut and lock behind me, I plan to take the opportunity to look for clues about the overexcited tiny woman, except that once I’m inside she’s nowhere to be found.
Not surprisingly, her apartment layout is the exact same as mine. You’re practically in the kitchen when you walk in with the bar to the right in front of the fridge and stove, the sink underneath the window looking out at the parking lot. While my apartment is decorated in grays and black, Lucy’s looks like it belongs to a teenage girl. It’s like a rainbow chick bomb detonated and threw up colors everywhere. Over to the left of the entrance is a purple velvet sofa facing a small, blinding yellow entertainment center with a basic television on top o
f it. There are pink pillow-like cushion seat things tossed on the floor and photos of flowers on the wall that look like exact photographs of the actual flowers in vases that are set all around the apartment, making it smell like a florist shop. Or a funeral. That’s right, my head is in a dark place that always goes back to death.
I’ve just finished my once-over, not finding any whips or chains that point to her being a sex freak when Lucy walks out of the bedroom in pajamas. At first, I’m relieved to see that she’s covered up since the bathing suit showed way too much skin, making me feel like an old pervert every time I snuck a glimpse at her. Not that I wanted to look, but I’m a man and she actually does have a nice pair of tits. They’re not huge ones that would topple her over or anything but just a nice handful. My lecherous eyes seek them out once again, and instantly my cock grows heavy at the sight of her jiggling breasts that are now moving freely, unrestrained under her thin pajama top. There are actual red strawberries placed right over her nipples like they’re begging to be plucked. And her shorts? Well, they’re so tiny and snug against her cunt that they barely cover more than a pair of panties. The bikini may have shown more skin, but these pajamas were made to drive men crazy by invoking thoughts of rolling around in bed and getting our hands underneath them.
“So? What was it you needed my urgent help with?” Lucy asks into the silence while I just stand there staring at her while holding my beer and obituaries. For the first time in weeks, though, I don’t want to drown myself in alcohol or obsess over the deaths of six men. I only want what my hard cock is demanding – that I pick Lucy up and slam her tight, wet pussy down on it over and over again until I come enough times to make up for the past three very, very dry years.
“I need you to…” I just barely catch myself before I finish the sentence with ‘get naked and ride me’ since that would be fucking insane. Divorce paper or not, as stupid as it is, I’m not ready to give up on Ellie just yet. That’s what it feels like I would be doing if I slept with another woman. I still remember our last time before she left me, barely, but I do. It was a week before our last argument and I had come home late from the Aces bar, thinking she was sound asleep. But after I climbed in bed, Ellie leaned over, grabbing a painful handful of my hair and kissing me hard. I knew she was pissed I hadn’t called but only because she missed me and worried about me. So, I put her on her stomach and fucked her into the mattress like she loved as an apology.
I’m not ready to let that memory go just yet. We never had the sweet, making love kind of sex people have in movies and shit. I’m not even sure I’m capable of that kind of intimacy. Maybe that’s why it all fell apart…
“Here,” I say instead, tossing the papers on the sofa before I head to the fridge to put the beers inside and adjust my cock behind the door discretely.
“Obituaries?” I hear Lucy ask as she shuffles through the papers and I pop the top on the first bottle.
“You want a beer?” I ask, looking at her over top of the fridge door.
“No thanks,” she responds absently while still reading.
“I need you to find those men’s addresses, or the addresses of their closest relatives – you know, like wives or mothers. Whatever.”
“Why do you want their addresses?” she asks.
“Can you find them or not?” I huff.
“Sure. Let me get my laptop.” Lucy walks back into her room with the papers and then returns with her laptop that she sits down on the sofa with. I saunter over with my beer in hand and hover.
When she glances up at me over the top of the screen, she says, “You can sit down. This could take me a few minutes. These things don’t happen at the speed of light.”
“I’m good standing,” I say, mostly because I want to keep wandering around the rest of her place and get a look in her bedroom even though it feels like torture. As I stroll around, I take a peek into the room where she sleeps. The overhead light reveals her purple and yellow comforter on a queen-size bed. Why does such a small person need such a big bed unless she’s planning to share it with someone else? I’m not sure if I’m relieved or disappointed that there are no handcuffs, whips, or any other kinky shit lying around. Everything is so nice and tidy. There are no dirty clothes on the floor, no sign of the black bathing suit she just took off. The only thing of interest is a paperback on the nightstand that’s turned upside down to hold her place. On the front is a shirtless man with abs of steel and his hand rubbing his way down lower…
Fuck me, it’s girl porn.
“Whatcha been reading?” I ask from the doorway, looking over my shoulder to see Lucy’s reaction from the sofa. Faster than the flip of a switch, her fingers stop racing over the keys and crimson stains both of her cheeks underneath the rims of her glasses.
“Just a regular old romance novel,” she answers before the click clack of the keyboard picks up again.
“Uh-huh,” I mutter, trying to bite back my grin. Now I’m even more curious and want to go pick up the book to see where she left off. Was she reading a sex scene last night that got her so hot that she had to slide her hand down the front of her little shorts to get herself off? Fuck, I would give anything to watch that. Ellie always claimed to be too uptight to masturbate alone, much less in front of me when I asked her to play with herself while I watched. Those were some of my favorite porn scenes to watch online when I was younger — just a naked woman alone, her legs spread wide for the camera, fingers pumping in and out of her pussy as she moans in ecstasy. There was no need for a man, because she could take care of her own needs just fine. I would always come in my hand when I closed my eyes and imagined licking her pussy after she finished.
And now I’m hard as a fucking rock yet again. Each time grows even more painful and persistent than the last. Tonight, when I go back to my apartment, I may have to pull up a video and relive those glory days when I was in high school and horny all the time no matter how many girls I fucked or how often. That was years before I met Ellie, the good, little, spoiled, rich girl who loved rough, dirty sex as much as I did.
Too bad sex wasn’t enough to hold our marriage together. If it was, we would’ve been one of those couples celebrating their fiftieth anniversary…
“Wow,” Lucy says, interrupting another trip down memory lane. “These guys were not nice people.”
“Why do you say that?” I ask as I head back over to the living room and rest my elbows on the bar counter.
“They all have criminal records a mile long.”
“I’m not surprised,” I mutter.
“Did you know them?”
“Sort of.”
“Okay, well, I have the addresses for Walter and Mario’s wives. Terry has a grown daughter, and Russell was survived only by his mother. All of them live within an hour away.”
“Great, thanks,” I tell her as I straighten up. “Can you print them for me or write them down?”
“Sure,” Lucy agrees. “Just as soon as you tell me why you need this information. The truth.”
What the fuck?
“You don’t need to know that,” I respond.
“Then you don’t need to know their addresses.” She slams her laptop shut and sets it down beside her on the sofa. With her legs crisscrossed, the move pulls her shorts even tighter to her cunt so that I can clearly see the outline of her pussy lips and the crease down the center of them.
Jesus fucking Christ. I’m so distracted by the sight that I momentarily forget what we were talking about. Oh right, she wants me to tell her why I want the addresses.
“You know I could just steal your laptop and get it, right?” I remark, glad to have the bar counter hiding the bulge in the front of my jeans.
“You would need to know my password to do that,” she says sweetly. “So, tell me the truth. I’m not handing the addresses over if you’re going to hurt these people.”
Frowning at her because that was her first thought about me, I tell her, “I’m not going to hurt them.”
Maybe it’s how she refuses to budge or the way she said my name so familiarly. Whatever it is, it makes me want to kiss her stubborn mouth to try and break her. Since that’s not going to happen, I somehow find myself telling her the truth, not just to get the information but because I feel like it’s important to finally admit it to someone and get it off my chest. “I need to try and make amends.”
“Amends? Amends for what?”
“Doesn’t matter.”
“How do you plan on ‘making amends’?” she asks, using finger quotes as if she thinks my intentions are sinister.
“Putting some cash in an envelope and stuffing it in their mailbox.”
“Without them knowing who it’s from?” Lucy questions.
“Right.”
“Can I come?”
“What? Come where?” I ask.
“To help you drop off the money.”
“I don’t need any help,” I mutter.
“And I don’t need to give you the addresses, so…I guess we’re at an impasse.”
This girl is such a pain in the ass. But I sort of gain some respect for her when she doesn’t cave. She’s not a pushover despite her tiny size. “Fine,” I huff.
“So, when are you doing this money drop?”
“Tonight,” I answer.
“The banks are closed.”
“That doesn’t matter. I’ve got the cash on hand,” I explain. “I just need to run upstairs and grab it.”