The Rage

by Jaci J.

  Staring down at me with hard, lust filled eyes, he licks his lips slowly and smirks at me. I instantly pull my thighs together to alleviate the feeling I get, just from the thought of him inside of me, and I’m instantly wet. Crouching down next to the bed, his face is inches from mine.

  “What?”

  “You fuckin’ know what, Lala.”

  Oh I do. I could hear him hollering about getting out of bed, but I just didn’t care. My body is too deliciously sore to get out of bed. To damn sore and happy to do anything. “Go away,” I say as I roll back over on my stomach, giving him my backside.

  I feel his lips against my neck, and then he begins kissing and licking his way down my spine, causing me to get goose bumps. He works his way down my body to the top of my ass, then his lips leave my skin. I feel relaxed, that is until his sharp teeth bite into my ass cheek.

  “Shit,” I hiss. My skin burns from the pinch of teeth. With another growl, he stands up and gives my ass a hard slap.

  “Said get the fuck up.”

  “Jesus Christ.”

  “No, not Christ. Just Rampage, baby.” Sticking my face back under the covers I roll my eyes at him. How far is he willing to go to get me out of this bed?

  ****

  We all pull up to an old, run down store behind Cali and Stitch, while other members follow behind. This is our last stop before heading home. A woman in her late sixties sits on a bench out front to greet us, or maybe she’s going to shoot us. She looks way past plastered. Her old body has seen better days, I’m sure. Stretched and faded tattoos cover her leathered skin, and her hair is teased and gray to the point of frizz. Tits, in need of a lift, sit in an even older cut. She’s an old, old lady.

  The place is in need of repair, just like the old busted up broad sitting out front. Paint’s chipping off everywhere, the front door is cracked down the middle with a screen door hanging on by a hinge. Even the old, dusty glass windows are cracked and broken. The large sign on the roof reads bacco. My guess? It used to say Tobacco.

  “Stay out here,” Rampage grunts, leaving Cali and I at an old worn table in the corner of the store, or whatever it is. I turn to watch as he and the guys disappear though a back hall. I’ve been looking around, but neither Cali nor I can figure out what the hell this place used to be. There’s no front counter or glass cases for Tobacco products. No bar… no shelves.

  “Bomb shelter?” Cali suggests.

  “You honestly think this thing would survive a bomb?” I ask waving my hand around. Laughing, she says, “Maybe. Mrs. Saggy Titties out there looks like she lived through

  one.”

  A ringing cell phone pulls Cali out the front door, grumbling about shit cell service. Great. I’m alone in this dusty dirty bacco store. I have nothing to do but take another look around the place again, and that’s when the front door swings open. Three men walk in and I see Cali being drug behind one of the guys. My heart leaps into my throat. Shit.

  Cali doesn’t look hurt or terrified, but she looks pissed, “Let go of my arm, ya nasty shit stain,” she screeches, trying to pull away. Letting go of her, he smirks and looks between the two of us with a very satisfied look on his face.

  “Look at this. Two for the price of one.”

  “Fuck off, septic tank scum. God, you fuckin’ stink,” Cali grumbles. Oh hell.

  The man that was holding onto Cali has long, dirty blonde hair. He looks to be in his forties and he looks like he’s had a rough life. His two compadres are both big, bald brutes, and they all look mean. My stomach knots with ideas of what they’re going to do.

  “Knew this one was feisty, but that one,” he nods his head at me as his lips curl in delight, “isn’t gonna be a challenge.” I’m not a challenge? Come and touch me and see what kinda challenge I am. The long haired dirt ball takes his time looking me up and down while taking a leisurely stroll around me. My back straightens and my body goes rigid. Cali’s right. He stinks and he’s fucking gross. Walking up behind me he touches my hair, running his fingers through it, making my skin crawl. My heart beats feverishly in my ears as he leans in to smell my hair.

  I try to step away, but he wraps an arm around my waist, “So. You the reason my brothers breathing through a tube, bitch?” His brother? What? “He might not be able to get a taste, but baby, I can do it for him,” I’m confused. Who’s his brother and why is it my fault he’s breathing through a tube?

  “Stitch!” Cali’s high-pitched voice rings through the room, and a loud commotion pulls my head toward Cali. With a backhand, baldy slaps her across the face.

  “Fuck!” Stitch growls as he runs into the room with a face full of fury. Picking Cali up off of the floor, Stitch looks to Rampage.

  “C’mere, Lala.” Rampage’s irate voice grumbles from the hallway. Stringy hair guy lets me go, but not without a fight. Jerking my body away from him, I throw myself at Rampage. Wrapping an arm around my shoulders, he tugs me into his chest, pressing his rough lips to my forehead.

  “Go into the bathroom. Lock the door until I come get ya,” With a little push toward a door down the hall, I start to go, but stop.

  This life, his life, is crazy. Not that mine is much better, but something about his is terrifying. Looking over my shoulder, back down the hall, I watch as Rampage strides up to stink pot and punches him square in the face. The man staggers back and starts to fall before Rampage kicks him down. My eyes catch Tags, who gives me a soft smile and nods me back down the hall.

  9

  On Stage

  Rampage

  Jesus Christ! I swear shit is always trying to fuck with this shit I’ve got going with Lala. I’m looking into who’s been using her as a punching bag, and now I’ve got the Tyrants to shut the fuck down. Shaking my hand out, I wipe the blood off my knuckles.

  “Next time you’ll remember to keep your fuckin’ hands to yourself,” The asshole raises his hands in defeat from his fucked up state on the floor. Fuck. I’d like to kick him in the fucking face.

  “Ye-yeah. Gotcha, man.”

  “Look at her again and I will kill you.”

  Willis, the Tyrants President, stands by the door, watching me beat the living fuck out of his brother. He isn’t gonna do shit about it ‘cause they need us. We’re a bigger club. We offer them shit they can’t get anywhere but with us. They need the alliance too goddamn much.

  “Get up,” Willis grumbles at the man, “and get the fuck outta my sight.”

  “Your brother talked about raping one of our girls. Had to show him a little ‘bout respecting bitches that don’t belong to him, ‘n that little fuck in the other room was askin’ for it by touchin’ her.”

  Willis shakes his head, scrubbing a hand down his face. Sitting down around an old card table, he pours himself a drink, “Gino’s been causin’ problems.” I had it my way, he won’t be a problem to anyone anymore.

  “Might want to handle that problem before I do.”

  Nodding his head, he sighs heavily, “He hurt her?” He’s fucking lucky he didn’t lay a finger on Lala. They’d all be six feet under if that was the case.

  “Don’t worry ‘bout mine. Handle your brother.”

  “We good then? No problems with the Disciples?”

  This is Tank’s shit. I’ve got no interest in this alliance bullshit, but since he was to goddamn occupied with Sis, I’m here doing this bidding. “You clean up your house ‘n we’re good.”

  Once that shit is over and done with, I go to the bathroom. Tapping on the door, I wait for Lala to answer it.

  “Rampage?” She asks through the door. Trying the handle it rattles, but doesn’t open.

  “Open the door.” Pulling the door open, she peeks out at me through dark lashes and blonde hair. She looks a little freaked, but she’ll be good.

  “You okay? Is Cali okay?” She asks. That shit makes me wanna smile. She fucking cares about me.

  “I’m good. Stitch took Cali out the front. You okay?”

  “Yes. I just wa
nt to go home,” she whispers. I’m right there with her. Holding my hand out to her, she comes right into me.

  “Lets go home, baby.”

  ****

  We’ve been home for a few days now, and Lala is still here with me. I don’t question it, ‘cause it is what it is. I don’t want her gone and she seems to like it here. Not sure how it happened, but I’m not fucking with it. I’m happy about it.

  I wake up to her every morning and that shit works for me. I get to keep her. She goes to school with Lil every day for a few hours while Blade tags along, keepin’ them safe. I get shit done around the shop, and when she gets back here after class, she’s all mine, and I don’t waste a second of my time with her.

  Shit works. It’s fucking effortless. There is no arguing about shit with her. She just fell right into this shit with me and with the club. The bitches love her and my brothers don’t mind her. She gets us and understands how this shit goes. We fit, and it’s working for me.

  Standing in the bathroom doorway, I watch Lala rummage through a pile of papers and shit on the bed. Her hair’s in that mess on top of her head, and she’s wearing a tight white tank that stretches across those perfect fucking tits, and some tiny pink panties.

  “Whatcha doin’ today?” Looking up from her mess, her eyebrows pull together and she shrugs.

  “Not sure. What are you doin’?”

  Hopping up off the bed, her question is forgotten. I watch her bring that perfect body right to me. I’m caught in the way her hips sway. I love the way her tits bounce with each step, and the way she fucking knows she’s got me wrapped around her finger. Leaning against the doorframe, tooth brush hanging from my mouth, I stare at her. I’m one lucky motherfucker.

  Walking right up and into me, she leans her chest into mine, those hard nipples press into my chest through that thin white tank. Looking down at her, she’s looking up at me smiling. Standing on her toes, she kisses my chest, making my dick salute her, desperate to fuck her.

  Reaching that sneaky hand out, she pulls the toothbrush out of my mouth and plops it into hers, “I think I might hang out with Lil,” she says around my toothbrush, hopping up onto the bathroom counter. Punk’d by my girl, as usual.

  “You gonna take over my toothbrush, just like you did my bed?” I ask her, pushing my way between her thick thighs. Rubbing my dick against those thin, pink panties, she shudders and moans. That’s right. Running my hands up and down her thighs, I revel in the soft skin and sweet smile she’s giving me. Fuck. So good.

  “My bed,” She corrects me, her voice breathy. And she isn’t wrong. That shit is hers. She’s got a shitload of blankets on it. Clothes. Her mess of school shit. But I wouldn’t have that shit any other way.

  “Yeah, your bed, Lala,” I concede. No use in fighting her. She knows she’s got that shit as long as she wants it.

  ****

  Standing in the shop looking down at a bike motor, broke down into a million little pieces, I start to question why I didn’t just stay in my room and fuck Lala again.

  “You pull this shit apart?”

  “You think I just pulled all them little pieces off ‘n threw ‘em ‘round here like that?” Gin grumbles, sliding over on a stool to look at the mess.

  “Don’t know. Wasn’t like this when I left.”

  “I was with you. You think I came home ‘n decided to tear it apart?” Alright, probably not. Well what the fuck happened?

  “Spendin’ all that time fuckin’ Lala has caused damage from loss of blood to you brain, brother.” He’s probably right.

  “Fuck you.”

  “Alright,” he smirks, thrusting his junk in my direction.

  “Keep your shit the fuck away from me.”

  “Awe, come on,” he groans, killing the rest of his beer.

  “Asshole,” I grumble under my breath. He just laughs.

  Three hours later, Gin and I have maybe twenty less small pieces of this goddamn engine all over the place. I’m going to kill whoever tore this shit apart. I’m standing over the bike when hands wrap around me from behind.

  “What are you doin’?” Lala asks, pressing her face into my cut covered back.

  “Nothin’, babe. How ‘bout you?” Letting me go, she walks over to workbench and jumps up on it. Her legs are swinging innocently, watching me with a smile on those juicy lips.

  She’s wearing a long black skirt and that tiny white tank. Thank fuck she put a bra on under it. Her bare feet are swinging back and forth under the workbench while she hums along to Jungle.

  “Come here,” she tilts her head and nods me over. I’m comin’.

  Pushing those legs apart, I step into her, pushing that skirt up. My dick finds it’s happy place between her thighs.

  “You come out here to distract me?”

  “I did,” she smirks wickedly at me. Fucking tease.

  “I will fuck you out here on this work bench. Don’t push me,” If she thinks she can just come out her to tease me, she’s lost her fucking mind. I will fuck her with an audience if she pushes it.

  “Sounds kinda dangerous,” she arches a brow at me. Thrusting against her hard, the workbench holds fast. “This shit is sturdy, baby.”

  “Whatcha need?” Shrugging both shoulders, she starts running her nails up and down my arms.

  “Just wanted to come see you.”

  “Yeah?” Her finger runs up my arm to my neck. She’s playing with fire.

  “Yep.” For some reason, I don’t believe her, but I don’t fucking care why she’s out here. All I care about is that she’s here.

  Running my hand up the inside of her thigh, I watch those big blue eyes widen as she stares at me. She knows what I’m doing and she won’t stop me. My fingers find those fucking pink panties.

  “Rampage,” she breathes as her hands tighten on my arms, but she lets me do whatever the fuck I want to her. Pushing aside her panties, I don’t even give her a chance. I thrust two fingers into her wet, tight pussy and she groans. This woman makes the sexiest fucking sounds I have ever heard from a woman when she’s getting off. I about fucking stroke out. She’s so tight that I work on stretching that shit out with my fingers. It should be with my tongue, but I make due with our surroundings.

  Pussy, the best and worst thing on this motherfucking planet. Men die for that shit. Wars have been fought over it. Men do stupid shit for grade A pussy, and I get that shit now. Her moans are music to my ears as I finger fuck my girl. Right here, right now, I own this shit. Pumping my fingers in and out, I lick down her neck, biting her shoulder. She’s fighting to hold on.

  Curling my fingers, I find that spot that makes her toes curl and her breath hitch. Using my thumb on her clit, I work magic on her with my fingers. I should be fucking her, but this shit is for her. Never thought I’d like getting someone off more than myself, but here I am, hard as a rock and aching balls with no end in sight for me, while Lala damn near cries while I finger her on a workbench in the shop. I’ll make sure she returns the favor later.

  ****

  I’m sitting in the club a few hours later, doin’ some shots with the brothers when my phone rings. Jerking it out of my pocket, I see Sis’s name across the screen, “Yeah?”

  “Rampage?” Lala’s on the phone and instantly I’m on alert. She doesn’t just call me. “What’s up babe? You okay?”

  “Uh- no, I don’t thinks so. Someone messed with the tires on the Chevy.” Fuck! my blood pressure shoots through the fucking roof.

  “Where are you?”

  “At Lil’s.”

  “You’re not hurt, are you? Everyone else okay?” I hear her shaky intake of air and the wobble in her soft voice, “Babe? Talk to me.”

  “Yes, we’re okay.” Thank fucking God.

  “Go inside and lock shit up. I’m on my way.”

  Pulling up out front with Tank and Arms, I see the Chevy is sitting on its rims. Each tire has a six-inch gash in it.

  “Someone didn’t just pop ‘em, someone slashed
‘em.” Arms says, running a hand over the tire.

  “Whatcha think?”

  “Big ass huntin’ knife would be my guess.” Fuck.

  Walking through the house, everything looks fine.

  “Where’d they go?” Arms questions, looking around.

  Tank heads down the hall and I follow behind him, “Lala?” I yell for her.

  “We’re in here.” Sis yells back through a door. Tank tries to open it, but it’s locked. Rattling the handle, he grumbles, “Open the fuckin’ door, babe.”

  How the fuck did I end up this guy. This is why I never bothered pursuing anything more than a quick fuck. These are the exact fucking feelings that I’ve avoided since my mom died ‘cause I don’t want to ever have to worry about someone. I don’t want to give a fuck enough to be affected. I don’t want to need someone that much. Fucking Christ. I hate that Lala has done this to me. I fucking hate it.

  Lala

  “You leavin’ me?” Rampage asks me from the bed. I know he’s mad. I told him I needed to get back home. I don’t want to, but I have to. I’ve spent the whole week away from my life, hoping like hell that Ryan got bored and cleared out. I have schoolwork to get done, a job to get to, and bills to pay. I can’t hide away here forever, no matter how much I want to. My boss has been giving me shit, calling and throwing a huge shit fit. Besides, I’ve taken a week of Rampage’s time, so I’m sure he has his own things to get back to. I know he doesn’t want to spend all his time hanging out with me.

  This past week has been perfect. I feel like I gained a family I didn’t know I needed. Rampage has become someone I need. In this short time I’ve known him, I’ve grown attached to him. Maybe it’s a good thing for me to step away from him. I don’t like needing someone, and honestly, I’m not used to having someone to depend on, but we’re sleeping together, and I see this for what it is. I can’t be stupid and think there could be more, so I need to go, more than I need him. My life outside of this fortress is a mess, and I have to find a way to get out and move on.