Leather and Chrome (Royal Bastards MC: Detroit, MI Book 2)

by Shannon Youngblood

  After I got out of the shower, I made a few calls around town to see if there were any openings at a few of my favorite places. I needed a change, and I needed it in a big way. Once my three appointments were scheduled, I got dressed and headed downstairs to hop in the truck. I knew it was silly of me, but I peered through the peep hole to make sure Chrome wasn’t outside waiting for me. When I saw he wasn’t, I opened the door and made my way to the truck.

  My first appointment was with my masseuse Andy. I hadn’t been in a few months, but I knew my muscles were tight and he would be the one to loosen me back up. Two hours later, I walked out feeling a quarter better than I had when I entered, and I headed out to my next appointment.

  Ink was one of the best forms of therapy, and I was elated when my tattoo artist, Steve told me he could squeeze me in for a small tattoo right after my massage. I had no idea what I was going to end up getting, but I had an entire phone of ideas I had saved over the past few years.

  “Steve,” I said joyfully as I entered the shop.

  “Well hello there, young lady,” Steve smiled back. “What are you thinking today?”

  I had the entire thirty minute drive to figure it out, and I knew exactly what I wanted.

  “Can you do a rotary cutter, right here on my upper arm. I want it to look like it’s cutting into my skin with a tiny droplet of blood seeping out.”

  A Rotary cutter was one of my most used tools for cutting leather. I eventually wanted my entire arm tattooed with leather equipment, and this seemed like a good place to start.

  “Shouldn’t be a problem at all. Let’s see what we can find online.”

  For the next fifteen minutes, Steve and I looked through tools until I found one that resembled mine the closest. He drew it up, and an hour and a half later, I left the shop exceedingly happy with my new piece.

  I had twenty minutes to get to my last appointment, and this one was probably going to be my favorite. When I rang the bell of the shop, my hairdresser, Jenna opened the door and escorted me in.

  “I haven’t seen you in a while girl,” she said, snapping the drape closed behind my neck. “Where have you been hiding yourself?”

  “Oh you know,” I laughed. “Working my life away.”

  We both laughed. Jenna owned her own salon, and she worked hard to get where she was. I had been going to her for almost ten years, and there was no one I trusted more than her.

  “Just a trim?” Jenna asked, grabbing her shears.

  “Actually,” I whispered maniacally, “I’ve got a better idea.”

  ***

  Twenty four hours later, I stepped out of my truck at Slingers, feeling better than I had in I couldn’t tell you how long. My halter top red dress fell to just above the knee, and my matching pumps gave my calves and ass a little boost. I felt relaxed and ready to take on the world, one shitty dive bar at a time.

  I wish I had paid more attention to my surroundings. If I had, I would have noticed a certain someone's bike parked just a few spaces down from me. I would have gotten right back in my truck and high tailed it out there. That’s what I would have done, had I noticed it. Too bad for me, I hadn’t.

  Opening the door to the bar, I walked in, temporarily blinded by the fluorescent lights. Before I could see my surroundings, I heard at least three men catcall me. It wasn’t uncommon, but it was still annoying. I headed straight for the bar and waited for one of the waitresses.

  “Holy hell, Cam,” Janis, my favorite bartender shouted in her adorable southern twang. “Look at your hair!”

  I blushed and reached up to finger my locks. “Do you like it?” I asked.

  “Oh my word! I love it!” She squealed, pouring me a whiskey sour. “Why did you decide to do that?”

  “I think I would like to know that reason as well,” a deep, familiar voice sounded from behind me. I didn’t need to turn around to know who it was.

  I didn’t know what to do. Part of me wanted to turn around and jump into Chrome’s arms. The other part wanted to deck him in the mouth. I had spent the entirety of yesterday pampering myself and getting lost in a little self care, and forgetting about this man, and within two seconds, everything came swarming back to me.

  It was apparent that Chrome didn’t exactly like being ignored, because he reached his fingers up into my hair and flipped me around.

  “Why?” He breathed, his breath reeking of alcohol. Chrome was severely intoxicated.

  “Why what, Chrome? Why did I cut all my hair off? Why did I run out? Why did you ditch me for some girl named Candy? I guess the world will never fucking know.”

  I was being petulant, and acting like a child, but as soon as I saw his face, I snapped.

  Chrome released my hair and stumbled backwards. I reached my arms out to catch him, but he was going down, and I was going down with him. I landed on his rock hard chest and for a moment, I breathed in the intoxication that was Chrome. He smelled like one hundred percent man; rough and dangerous, and I was drawn to it like a moth to a flame.

  “I’m sorry,” he squeaked out, lower than I had ever seen him. There was something seriously wrong, and my nurturing instincts took hold.

  Standing up, I reached down to help him up as well.

  “Janis, how much has he had?” I hollered over my shoulder.

  “He’s been here since four and was pretty muchy lit up when he got here,” she shrugged.

  Once Chrome was safe in a chair, I sat next to him, pulling my own in close.

  “Are you alright?” I asked, “And where is your cut?” I had never seen him without it on, except when we were in bed.

  “Suuureee,” he mumbled, “Never been betteler...betteler… Never been betteler.”

  Chrome laughed through his drunken slurred mistakes.

  “Chrome. Where is your cut?”

  He kept his mouth shut, but grabbed a napkin off the table, wadded it up and threw it to the ground. “Isss gone, Angel. I throwed it away,”

  I reached in my bag to grab my phone and turned it on. As soon as I went to punch in TBone’s contact info, Chrome smacked the phone out of my hand.

  “NO!” He barked. “Not allowed to call the Bone of T,”

  “Okay. Okay. I won’t call him,” I soothed him, putting my phone back in my purse.

  “Such a pretty, pretty Angel. Short hair looks ver--very good!” Chrome mumbled, fingering my long bob.

  “We should get you home,” I said, riffling around my purse for my keys. This wasn’t how I saw my night playing out, but my heart was too emotionally invested in this man, even if I didn’t want it to be.

  “Pfffffffffffffft,” Chrome blew out a raspberry. “I don’t have a home no mo.”

  “What does that mean?” I asked the drunken biker.

  “I live in the motel now,” he giggled.

  It was clear I wasn’t going to get any answers from him in this state. I stood up and helped him to his feet. Once he was mostly erect, I shoved my hands into his pockets to try and find either his wallet or his phone or both.

  “Cam, is there a mirrrorooror in that dress, cuz I can see myself in your pants.”

  I chuckled at his fumbled pick-up line until I found his wallet. Inside was indeed a keycard to the motel next door to the bar.

  “Come on, Casanova. Let’s get you to bed.”

  Chrome wrapped his arms around my shoulder and wobbled with me out of the door. I thanked my lucky stars he didn’t put up a fight about leaving. We only needed to make it about fifty yards to his hotel room and once again luck favored me as his room was on the first floor. I couldn’t imagine trying to get him up a flight of stairs.

  When we got to the door, I fumbled with the key card, sliding it into the reader and waited for the green light to appear.

  “I love my lil Angel,” Chrome whispered, taking a strand of my hair and curling it around his finger.

  I sighed and pushed open the door. I didn’t want to admit it to myself, but there was a high probability I had fallen
for Chrome as well, and I lived off the belief that alcohol was the ultimate truth serum. What he was saying was probably the truth, but there wasn’t a girl alive that wanted to hear it in Chrome’s current state. He probably wouldn’t remember this tomorrow anyways, and that suited me just fine.

  Once the door was shut, I sat Chrome down on the bed and bent down to remove his boots. I imagined as soon as his head hit the pillow he would be out, and I was pretty sure not a person alive liked waking up with their shoes still on.

  “Come on, drunky. Let’s lay down.”

  Chrome starfished out on the bed, giggling as he fell.

  “Silver is soooooo mad at me,” he laughed.

  “What happened, Chrome?” I asked, seeing if he might open up.

  “No, no. I can’t tells you. Is a secret.”

  “You close your eyes now, Chrome. Your wallet is right here.”

  I placed his wallet on the bedside table and went to stand, only to be grabbed by the wrist and pulled on top of a hard chest.

  “You stay with me?” Chrome asked and I sighed.

  He was an absolute trashed mess, and as much as staying with him was going to hurt my heart even more in the long run, I couldn’t in good conscience leave him. At least not until he passed out and I could sneak away.

  “Yes. I’ll stay with you. But you have to let me up so I can take off my shoes.”

  Begrudgingly, Chrome released me from his hold so I could sit up and slip off my heels. I climbed into the bed next to him and flipped over on my side away from him. He must have taken that as an invitation because he crawled up next to me, spooning against my back.

  “Such a pretty Angel,” he cooed into my ear. “Pretty, pretty, Angel.”

  “Close your eyes, Chrome,” I said wearily.

  “Mkay”

  Less than two minutes later, Chrome was out, snoring in my ear. I waited a few more minutes and then attempted to ease out of his hold.

  “Nuuu,” he mumbled, pulling me in tighter.

  I sighed and rolled my eyes. Leaning over, I turned off the switch on the lamp, drowning the room in darkness and I shut my eyes.

  “Goodnight, Chrome,” I whispered.

  He snored in response.

  I smiled lightly, my head still weary and not in the best of places. I had gone out tonight to get my mind off of Chrome and this Candy chick, and here I was, passed out in the bed next to the man I was trying to forget. Maybe I was just a glutton for punishment, or maybe somewhere deep down inside of me, I knew there was something more between Chrome and I, but either way, I couldn’t help feeling like an idiot. I was in deep, and the fall had the potential to destroy me.

  Several hours later, my eyes flew open as something heavy descended on me. I was flat on my back, my wrists above my head pinned by one of Chrome’s hands.

  “Angel?” Chrome grunted, dazed and severely confused.

  I didn’t have to answer him, he knew it was me, and in a moment of weakness, I pushed my hips up into the erection I could feel poking me.

  Chrome’s deep growl resonated around me as I felt his hand travel up my body, across my breasts, around my face and into my hair.

  “It wasn’t a dream. You really did cut it.” He wasn’t asking a question, but merely stating a fact. I felt inclined to answer.

  “Yes,” I breathed heavily.

  “You cut my hair?” He asked, this time in the form of a question.

  “Your hair?”

  “Yes, Angel. My hair. Every part of you is mine. All of it.”

  He didn’t wait for a response, his mouth descending on me fast and rough. He claimed my lips and then whispered.

  “Mine.”

  He travelled down my collarbone to my neck, nibbling softly.

  “Mine.”

  Chrome pulled down my dress and took each of my nipples into his mouth.

  “Mine. Mine”

  And before I could stop him, he crawled down my body and yanked my dress up, his mouth covering my swollen pussy.

  “Mine,” he growled.

  I threw my head back and relished in the way his mouth and his tongue worked together to bring me to the highest forms of bliss over and over again. After my third or fourth orgasm, I reached down and grabbed Chrome’s hair, pulling at it. I needed a moment to catch my breath.

  “What is it, my Angel,” Chrome purred against me.

  “Please. Please,” I mumbled.

  “Please, what?”

  “I need---- I need--,” I couldn’t get the words out. I didn’t know what I needed.

  “What do you need, Cameron?” Chrome growled, sitting up.

  “You,” I responded.

  With just one syllable from my lips, Chrome thrusted into my dripping cunt with the strength and determination of a madman.

  “This. Is. Mine. Angel. Do you understand me?”

  I literally couldn’t speak. I had no words. A small whimper left my throat.

  ‘Say it,” he bellowed, pumping in and out of me, sending me to the brink once more.

  “Yours, Chrome. I’m yours!”

  I saw stars behind my eyes and my body set fire and sky rocketed into outer space. My orgasm rocked through me with such depth and power I was certain I could never come back down to Earth.

  “Yes,” Chrome grunted, stilling inside of me, his cock pulsating and pupping me with his thick seed. “Cum on my cock, Angel.”

  I rode through my orgasm, eyes clenched together tightly, my legs wrapped around Chrome’s waist. I never wanted to leave this motel bed. Not for as long as I lived.

  Sooner than I wanted, Chrome collapsed on the bed next to me, but pulled me into his body, his chest to my back. He ran his fingers through my hair and kissed my head repeatedly. I closed my eyes and relaxed into the moment. We shared a few peaceful moments of silence in the dark before Chrome opened his mouth and rocked my world for the second time that night.

  “My name is Noah Braxton, and I have an identical twin living in Tonopah, Nevada.”

  For almost twenty years I had been living with the secret of my identity, and while in the back of my mind I knew that Silver should have been the first person I told, the words tumbled out of my mouth into Cam’s ear. There was something about her that had the ability to put me at ease when no one else could. Sure, Silver knew my birth name was Noah, but he had no idea where I had come from. I had intended on taking that secret with me to the grave, but the cat was out of the bag now.

  “A twin?” Cam mumbled.

  “Yes.”

  “How did I not know this?” She asked rhetorically.

  “No one did. Not a single soul on Earth knows that I exist.”

  Cam turned in my arms to face me. We were still in the dark, but she reached her hand up and palmed my cheek. “I know you exist.”

  “No, my Angel. You know Chrome. You don’t know Noah.”

  “What if I told you I wanted to know him too?” She asked. I couldn’t see her face, but the sincerity of her words rang through the air.

  Did I want to tell her who I was? Did I want to share my secret for the first time in history? The thought made me want to vomit, but at the same time, I had never uttered a word about my past, and it would probably be quite cathartic to get it off my chest and share my load.

  Cameron could sense my hesitation. Wrestling out my arms, she leaned over and flicked on the light. We both blinked a few times to adjust to the subtle glow around the room. The alcohol still made my mind a bit fuzzy, but my eyes saw perfectly.

  Cam’s new haircut was stunning. The straight black hair framed her beautiful face giving her an even more angelic like persona. My heart clenched in my chest, and I knew, in that moment. I wanted to tell her. Sitting up, I faced her and took her hands in mine.

  “Ange,” I started. “My story isn’t a pretty one. There are no flowers, or hearts, or love. My past is full of loss, heartbreak, and rage. Do you think you can handle that?” I already knew the answer, my Angel could handle anything, bu
t I wanted to give her a chance to make that choice for herself.

  “Noah, there is nothing you can say that will frighten me away. As much as I tried to stop it, you’ve captured my heart. I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere, no matter what you tell me.”

  An emotion I had never experienced before poured through my body. A warm, soft, glow flooded through my veins, threatening to choke me. This was something I had never experienced before. This was love, and it scared the fuck out of me.

  “I was born to Barb and Boone Braxton in Tonopah Nevada. I was, well, I am, an identical twin with Azrael, otherwise known as Ian Braxton. I have a sister named Willow. Unfortunately, I’ve never met any of them.” I gave Cam a moment to let part one sink in.

  “Okay,” Cameron nodded. “Why have you never met them?”

  “This part is a bit harder to explain. I was raised by a man named Arthur Cooke until I was about nine. He was a much older man, and he was also an OBGYN doctor. On the day he died, he sat me down and told me where I had come from.”

  Cam nodded but didn’t speak. She could tell I was nervous telling the story, and interrupting me would only make it that much harder.

  “He explained to me that Barb and Boone were a lovely couple and were a part of this ever growing motorcycle club with chapters popping up all over the United States. They were absolutely thrilled to learn they were pregnant with twin boys and had our names picked out early on. Boone was especially excited he had two boys to take over his legacy. Unfortunately, Arthur had fallen into the wrong crowd and had racked up a gambling debt even his high salary job couldn’t help him overcome.”

  Cameron’s eyes were wide as I told her my story. Every word was a flashback to a set of memories I had compartmentalized inside of me, determined to never let them see the light of day. Every word was both a mixture of relief and terror, but I kept rambling.

  “The crowd Arthur had fallen into was a Russian Mafia of sorts, and the leader at the time, Solonik, offered to help him out. The deal was, if Arthur killed one of the twins as soon as he was born, he would forgive the Doctor’s debts in full.”