by Jaci J.
I wanna fuck her bent over the pool table. I wanna fuck her on my bike. I want those long legs wrapped around my waist as she bounces up and down on my dick. I want to spread her out on the bar and bury my face between her thighs.
So yeah, I’ve lost my motherfucking mind, not that I ever had it to begin with.
I know why the brothers fucking stare. I get why they approach her. I know they want a taste of something sweet. They want the same motherfucking thing I do. They’re all looking for something new, and she’s fresh, unclaimed pussy to them. The guys circle around her like a bunch of sharks, but if anyone is gonna fuck that girl, it’s gonna be me. I’m going to be like that. I’m calling dibs on that pussy, and that pussy will be mine.
****
I would have thought just by the looks of her, she would end up being a stuck up bitch. Shit, she looks like the hot ass girl next door; Prom queen, cheerleader type of bitch. All she needs is a tiara on her goddamn head and she’d look like a fucking princess. Figured she’d have her nose in the air, entitlement in her voice, money in her veins, and an attitude to rival any of these bitches here, but fuck, I couldn’t have been more wrong.
She’s soft spoken, voice calm and soft when she speaks. She’s sweet. Fuck, I find I’m relaxed around her because she’s so easygoing. She sits with all of us motherfuckers like an old pro, like she’s been here all her fucking life.
Lala’s not nearly as wild as Lil, Cali, or Peaches, but she seems to hold her own with these bitches. She jokes and laughs with them, keeping up with the shit they throw her way. The old ladies seem to like her, and those bitches don’t like just anyone.
The girls and the brothers give her shit, and she gives it right back to them. It’s a little fucking scary how well she fits in. She takes it all in stride. She smiles and laughs off the nasty shit that comes out of our mouths, and doesn’t seem scared of us. There’s something to be said for a bitch that can hold her own with us. Bitches like her are few and far between; You’re a rare breed when you can handle us.
With so many people vying for her attention, she hasn’t talked much to me, but from time to time, she makes an effort to find me and give me her beautiful smile. I know she’s looking for me and I’m not gonna lie, that shit makes me actually smile, and I do not fucking smile. You may get a grin from me, but this bitch has me showing a genuine fucking smile.
She also doesn’t venture too far from me. King has been begging her to go for a ride with him, but I’ll be damned if she’s leaving with him. I will kill King before he gets her on the back of his bike. I laid claim to that shit in my head, and he is not fucking claiming what’s mine unless he wants to end up dead.
I sit on one of the couches, watching her. Why? Because I’m fucking stupid, that’s why. Men like me have no business sticking our dicks in bitches like that, or even have a bitch like that, but it doesn’t mean we don’t want to or won’t try. She’s a woman bastards like me work their entire lives for, only to be shot the fuck down. But still, we try. We’re sick, sad fucks that way, working for a bitch we’ll never get.
Tank takes the chair next to me and takes a long pull from his beer. Crush sits his ass down next to him. “Fuckin’ hot, right?” Tank grumbles, never taking his eyes off his beer.
“The fuck you on ‘bout?”
“Lailah. She’s hot as fuck, right?”
“Fuck yeah she is. She’s so fuckin’ hot I’d slap my patch on her ass ‘n ride her home,” Crush adds.
Nodding, I glance over my shoulder at her and she catches me. She does that shit every time. No matter how fucking careful I am, she knows. I watch her lick her lips and my dick twitches painfully. She’s playing dirty.
“Yeah, somethin’ like that.” I mutter into my drink.
“Lil brought her home a while back. There ain’t no bitch that’s grabbed my attention like that since Lil brought her ass into the Chapel, ‘n that’s sayin’ somethin’.” Fuck yeah it is. Tank has zero interest in any bitch that ain’t Sis. If some girl makes him look twice, she must be somethin’. Even though I don’t wanna hear him say that shit about anyone but Lil, being my sister and all, I can’t argue with what he is sayin’.
“Fuck. Wish Lil woulda brought her home to me. She coulda stayed, too. Havin’ the both of them together… Jesus Christ! That’d kill ‘a man,” Crush says before he catches a fist to the gut. Coughing a few times, he grunts, “W-what? It’s the fuckin’ truth.”
“You’re talkin’ ‘bout my old lady, you dumb fuckin’ asshole.”
Crush smiles unapologetically and shrugs. He doesn’t give a shit.
“Sis brought her home? What the fuck does that mean? You two into that shit?” Not sure why I’m asking because I really don’t want to know the answer to the question, but the thought of Tank fucking her does not sit well with me.
“You know how fuckin’ stupid you sound sometimes?” He levels me with a hard look. “You think Lil would let me do more than look at another bitch? Shit, I’m lucky she don’t poke my fuckin’ eyes out for glancin’ in another female’s direction. What happened was the girls went shopping or some shit, then came to the house.”
“Or some shit?”
“I don’t fuckin’ know what it was they did. What the fuck do females do together? Shop ‘n gossip, I guess.”
“We have sleepovers. We have naked pillow fights with each other while we bounce around on a feather covered bed. We take bubble bath’s together and practice our kissing techniques on each other, then we bake shit,” Lala says sweetly as she leans over the couch and against my shoulder with a smile from ear to ear, “Ya know. Cookies and pies? Shit like that.”
My will power dwindles when she slides onto the couch right next to me and laughs. Making herself comfortable, she looks over at us with those big blue eyes, shining with nothing but trouble. Fucking gorgeous.
“That’s my cue to get the fuck outta here,” Tank mumbles and leaves.
“Do I get an invite to this little shindig?” Crush asks, wiggling his eyebrows at her.
“Sorry. Women only.”
“Figures. Pussy always rules. I get it.” He grumbles.
Putting her hand on his shoulder, she leans into him and whispers, “That’s exactly right. Remember that ‘n you’ll have no trouble landin’ a woman.”
“You wanna be that woman, Lailah?” He tries again. I hate this easy flirting shit between her and every other brother here.
“I’m gonna have to pass, but thank you.”
“Come on, ya know ya want this,” he says grabbing his dick and shaking it at her.
“Put your shit away, motherfucker,” He catches another fist to the gut.
“F … fuck, alright,” he groans, holding his hands up. He looks back at Lala and smiles. I know what he’s doing. He thinks he’s slick, but he’s really just plain fucking stupid. “If you change your mind sweetness, come find me,” A new girl named Diamond saunters by and just like that, his attention is elsewhere.
“Hi,” she chirps at me. Twisting in her seat to face me, she closes her eyes for a second like she’s trying to wait for a dizzy spell to pass.
“Too much to drink, Lala?”
“Possibly.”
A bunch of laughing follows Lil and the girls over to us. Throwing themselves all over Lala, they tug her out of her seat and away from me. Come on bitches, I just fucking got her.
“Let’s go outside, love bug!” Lil squeals. Tugging on her hand, Lil pulls her toward the door.
“Save my seat Rampage,” And just like that she’s gone… again.
****
I’ve been sitting here a while, drinking and not doing a fuckin’ thing when Lala flops down next to me a few hours later.
“You saved it for me?” She puffs out a drawn out breath and smiles. Not so much as saved it, no one wants to hang with a broody asshole like me right now, so yeah, I guess I did fucking save it.
“You still drinkin’ babe?”
Shaking her head, she y
awns and says, “Nope. I stopped a while ago.”
“Good.”
For a while she just sits next to me, both of us in a comfortable silence.
“Rampage?”
“What?” I snap. I’ve never really thought about how I sound to other people, but I finally hear what an asshole sounds like, but she doesn’t seem fazed by my rudeness.
“What’s your favorite color?”
“What the fuck?”
“Your favorite color, what is it?” She repeats and pushes her shoulder into mine. “ I would like to get to know you a little better, and this seems like a reasonable way to start. So let me try again. What is your favorite color? Favorite food? Favorite movie? Do you like ice cream?
“You’re fuckin’ with me, right?”
“No, not at all. I think those are fairly simple questions, don’t you?” She asks.
“Fine. My favorite color is Black. Favorite food is steak. Don’t have any favorite movie, and yes, I like ice cream. Is that all?”
She leans in closer and smiles. She is just all sweet and innocence. That shit is so goddamn potent it damn near blinds me.
“Lala what the fuck are you doin’?” I say in a low, seductive way as I stare into her eyes. She loses her smile and I realize she has no clue, no fucking idea what she’s leading herself into.
“Yeah Lala, I don’t mind ice cream at all.”
Lala
Looking away from Rampage after his question, I take in the people around us, all of who seem to openly gawk at us, especially the club’s gash girls. I can’t tell if it’s because he seems so mean and intimidating, or if they are just jealous.
“Rampage?”
“What now, Lala?” He grumbles. He’s leaning back against the couch, an arm thrown over the back¸ holding a drink in one hand, and a joint in the other. He looks bored.
“Why is everyone staring at us?” He just shrugs his shoulder.
I have no clue what possessed me to sit with Rampage in the first place. When I walked in, leaving Lil outside, he was sitting alone on the same couch I left him on. I watched as people walked by him, giving him a wide berth and avoiding his eyes. I don’t know why I figured I should be the person to keep him company, but I did. I didn’t want him sitting alone. My constant need to make everyone feel better or included might be the reason, but it feels like a lot more than that. He pulls me to him whether I want to admit it or not.
He doesn’t talk a whole lot to anyone. Hell, he doesn’t talk to me much either, but he doesn’t ignore me. Something about Rampage makes me curious, a little scared, but curious nonetheless.
“Don’t know, babe. I know I don’t care. Do you care? Do I look like a someone who gives a fuck what these assholes think of me?”
“No.”
“That’s right, babe. I don’t give a flyin’ fuck.”
Well that settles it. It seems we both have the same attitude when it comes to whether we care what other people think of us. I think I’m starting to see what pulls me to him.
I sit with Rampage for a while, watching people. I watch the gash throw themselves at any man that gives them an ounce of acknowledgement. They’re desperation is sick, but it really makes me sad to see. I see glimpses of my mom in each woman here. For her, and for these girls, it’s the love for the party, the thrill of the chase, and most importantly, the validation from men through sex. Once the party is over, the chased has been caught, and the sex has been played out, they are left with the hurt and sadness in being replaced immediately by the next conquest. It’s a vicious cycle that I’ve steered clear of my entire life.
I watch the guys drinking, playing pool, and see the bonds they all share. Although there is a serious pecking order, they all seem to show each other some form of respect. Whether it be a non-member giving a member his seat, or people they call ‘prospects’ serving drinks, cleaning up, and doing various other duties, there is a level of respect in everything each person does in this club. They have their own world of rules here, but I can see the basics at work.
“You good, Lala?” Rampage asks, breaking me from my thoughts.
“Yep. I’m good.” A few guys walk inside and they all look over at us. Some give respectful head nods, while the others just stare.
“Got shit to do,” He grumbles, grabbing and squeezing my upper thigh.
“Okay. Thanks Rampage, ya know, for keeping me company,” It was nice just to sit with someone. He may not have spoken to me much, but his company was appreciated.
“Not sure how good a company I was, but sure, Lala.”
“I just appreciate you hanging with me for a bit.”
Giving me a quick nod, he heaves himself up from the couch. Giving a chin lift toward the guys, he calls, “Got shit to discuss… now, motherfuckers.” They all come his way. Not one of them says a word as they follow him to the bar.
“See ya around, Rampage.”
Looking over his shoulder at me, he nods once and points, “I’ll be back soon, so save my seat.”
I watch him and the guys take their seats around the bar. I turn back around to do more people watching when a man, I think they called him Blue or something, sits down next to me and throws his arm over my shoulders. The heavy smell of booze and smoke are overwhelming to my nose.
“Whatcha’ ‘doin’ all by yas lonesome, baby doll?” He slurs sloppily at me. His hand cups my shoulder and squeezes. I try to scoot away, but no such luck, he keeps me close.
“Just sittin’ here people watching.”
“Yous looked ‘a wittle lonely.” Far from it, actually. I try again to scoot away, but this time he jerks me closer to him, his hand tightening on my shoulder, “Yous stayin’ right ‘ere.” I’m not gonna get away from him without making a scene, so I’m stuck.
Running a dirty finger down my arm, he leans into me, his face inches from mine, “Hab a wittle fun wit me tanight,” His lips brush against my cheek when he speaks and I gag from the smell of his stale breath. I’m trying stop the next one from coming, but It’s almost impossible.
“I don’t think so.” I tell him. What I’d like to say is ‘get the hell away from me’, but I’m trying not to upset anyone here.
His finger trails down my arm to my hand that’s in my lap. I go to remove his hand away from me when I hear Rampage shout violently through the clubhouse, “BLUE!”
Peeking over my shoulder, Rampage’s eyes meet mine and he looks pissed. His face is contorted into a rage filled fury.
Suddenly it’s silent. He slams his hands on the bar top, rattling the glasses, “Remove your fucking hand before I do that shit for you,” he warns.
Instantly Blue moves away from me, jumping off the couch and walks toward the other side of the room.
Turning my eyes back to Rampage, he points at me and says, “Lala, c’mere.” For a moment I hesitate, embarrassed at being called out and becoming the center of attention.
“Get the fuck up ‘n c’mere,” he yells at me this time. Where his voice sounds mean, his eyes soften and lose that dark edge as he looks at me, so I get up. Making my way toward him, I stop a few cautious feet away. He stands up and closes the distance between us.
“You okay?” I just nod. Landing hard eyes on Blue he growls, “Me ‘n you got shit to discuss.” Looking back at me, he tells me sternly, “Stay at the bar.” Not going to argue that.
Sliding onto the stool next to me a few minutes later, he doesn’t even look at me. He doesn’t seem happy, but he doesn’t seem quite as pissed, either. Handing me a shot, I notice his knuckles are red and swollen, but I don’t ask. I’m guessing he and Blue had that discussion. Forcing a shot into my hand, he doesn’t say anything, but then again, he doesn’t have to. He knows I’m going to take the shot. I’d like to steer clear of upsetting him.
A member, Gin, walks up next to Rampage and hands him something, “For your troubles, brother,” and chuckles as he and another guy walk away, leaving us alone.
“Up on the bar, Lala.” R
ampage orders. For a second I wonder if I heard him right. “What?”
“Get up on the goddamn bar,” he slaps his big hand on the bar top. I stare at him like he’s crazy. What the fuck does he want me up on the bar for?
When I continue to sit there, he gets up from his stool, turns and barges his way in between my thighs without a word. Putting his hands around my waist, he lifts me without question and places me on the bar top.
“Lie down.” I don’t know why I do it. I’m nervous, but extremely curious, so I just do as he says.
“What are you doing?”
“Need somethin’ to calm my ass down, baby. I need my hands on you to help me do that.”
For a moment there’s nothing, then his hands are at my waist touching me, slowly moving my shirt up so my stomach is bare. I want to fidget, but I don’t. He moves the shirt up slowly, keeping his hands on me, making my body feel alive. I watch him as he does all this, like he is paying very close attention to what he’s doing, pushing it up just above the underside of my breasts. Once my shirt is where he wants it, he slowly moves his hands down and begins to trace the hem of my jeans with his finger. Then just as suddenly, he takes both hands and forces my jeans down as low as they will go without unbuttoning them. I’m in the middle of a clubhouse, full of bikers, lying on a bar table with who knows how many people watching as he yanks my pants halfway down my thighs, the top part of my ass coming out the top. It is the sexiest thing I have ever had done to me. His touch sends goose bumps over the exposed skin of my bare stomach and pelvic region. My reaction is to cover myself up, but he reaches up to still me, saying one word that makes me freeze, “Don’t.”
I put my hands back by my sides, even though my mind is telling me that I shouldn’t be letting him do whatever it is he’s doing. I don’t even know him! That shitty little voice in my head keeps shouting ‘skank’, but my body is humming to a tune of its own.
I don’t move. I don’t protest. My curiosity has gotten the better of me.