Crave

by Margaret McHeyzer

  “I told you, I’ll take care of you.” He smacks my hands away.

  I close my eyes and let him towel dry my hair, relaxing into this sense of comfort.

  “Why are you doing this?” I ask, almost frightened to hear the answer.

  “Because I’m not just a monster, I’m also a man.”

  Jaeger has never given me the impression that he’s the sweet, caring type. But right now he’s looking after me and treating me with the utmost respect.

  Can Jaeger be the man I need?

  Grit: Chapter 21

  Today’s gonna be a fucked-up day. I need to call Cain and let him know the decision that the table made late last night.

  What a clusterfuck that was. Four of the members didn’t want to go against Cain, and we spent hours at the table hashing it all out. By the end of the night, we’d all agreed that we needed to cut the connection with Cain.

  My major issue with him is the way he’s strong-arming us and dictating what the club should do. He wants us to help him with drugs, but who says he’ll stop there? He could take us into human trafficking, people smuggling, or kiddie porn. The underworld is huge. Once they experience the taste of money, the greed becomes overwhelming. And such an intense desire usually ends in carnage.

  We’ve managed to remain off the radars of most law enforcement agencies, and that’s exactly how I want to keep it.

  Phoenix moves back, wiggling her ass against my morning wood.

  God, she feels so good against me. Her body is so warm and soft, and I like the fact that she goes to sleep with me each night and wakes up in my bed every morning.

  “Hey,” she says without turning.

  “Hey,” I reply and thrust my hips against her ass, silently telling her that I’m going to screw her before she even thinks about starting her day.

  “Hmmm,” she moans. I move my hand up to her tit and pull on her nipple. She’s so responsive, I know she fights this attraction we have, but her body never lies.

  Every time I finger her pussy, she’s drenched before I even start doing anything. And when I go down on her, damn, her taste, her smell, and her moves drive me crazy.

  Speaking of going down on her, I’d love to tongue her wet pussy right this minute. She’s got the sweetest tasting cum I’ve ever had.

  “Babe,” I say as I move to kiss her shoulder.

  “No,” she answers flatly.

  Yeah, right, I’m not buying it. Especially seeing as she’s trying to conceal those sexy little noises she makes when I pull on her nipples.

  “Babe,” I say again and lick from her shoulder down to her elbow.

  “No.” I can hear defiance in her voice now.

  Moving my hand slowly away from her tits, I casually snake my fingers toward her pussy.

  “God, no,” she groans. She’s gotta be fighting with that stubborn-ass brain of hers again.

  My fingers feel the small amount of hair covering her pussy and I part her lips and go straight for her clit.

  “Hmmm, oh, um.”

  “You’ve lost this battle, babe. Open your legs and let me lick your pretty little cunt.”

  Nix turns on her back and I automatically maneuver so I’m hovering over her.

  “No, Jaeger.” She pushes me off her and slips out of bed and into the bathroom.

  She closes the door, but since I kicked it in the other night, the thing doesn’t latch shut properly.

  “Hey, what the hell’s going on?” I ask as I stand and follow her to the bathroom.

  “Nothing,” she answers, though she sounds like she’s crying. What’s wrong with women? They freaking cry and then go all silent on us. What am I supposed to think? She said nothing’s wrong with her, well, then I guess there’s nothing wrong with her.

  I put on a t-shirt and jeans and leave her and her ‘nothing’ alone.

  Screw getting into the minds of chicks. They’re seriously fucked up.

  Throw a punch, for Christ’s sake. They’d feel better if they just pounded someone. Then they could walk away and forget about it.

  That’s what men do.

  When I walk into the kitchen, Sarge is sitting at the table and Aaron’s opposite him. Both are having coffee, not saying a word to each other.

  A normal morning.

  I flick my head back at them, and they repeat the gesture.

  I pour a cup of coffee for myself and get a mug for Nix too. Pouring one for her, I walk it into our room and see she’s still in the bathroom.

  “Coffee,” I yell through the door that’s pushed shut, but not latched.

  “Thanks,” I hear Nix faintly say.

  Turning, I leave and go to find the boys.

  “Where’s Jason?” I ask, looking between Aaron and Sarge.

  “Don’t know,” Aaron replies.

  “Nix is going into town with Milina and I want him with them.”

  “I’ll go,” Sarge says, a little too eager.

  “Babysitting a couple of women now, eh?” I say as I sit at one of the spare chairs and look at Sarge.

  “Going to get new ink anyway. I can take ‘em.” He stands and walks away.

  “What’s that about?” Aaron asks me.

  I shrug my shoulders, “Ask him.”

  “Thanks for the coffee, I’m just going to call Milina and see how far away she is,” Phoenix says as she puts her coffee cup in the sink and turns to walk out of the kitchen.

  I catch her by the wrist and bring her back to sit on my lap.

  “What the hell’s going on?” I ask as I smooth her hair away from her face.

  Nix lifts her eyes to quickly look at Aaron then to me. “Nothing. Can I call Milina now?”

  “Sure thing.” I release her from my knee and she walks away looking like shit.

  “What’s going on there?” Aaron asks as he moves his head to indicate Nix.

  I shrug my shoulders again; “Ask her,” I say as I chuckle.

  Aaron lets out a laugh and stands, “I think Sarge should stay here in case Cain comes out.”

  He’s got a point, but at this stage I doubt Cain will want that, I think once I tell him, he’ll send his men around to take us out. Or at the very least, hurt us by taking only one or two out.

  “Just leave him,” I say as I flick my wrist at him in a dismissive manner.

  “Your call.” Aaron leaves the kitchen, and seconds later Nix walks in with half a smile on her face.

  “Milina will be here soon, I don’t know what time I’ll be back.”

  “Sarge is coming with you.” Nix rolls her eyes and her shoulders slump when I tell her. “He’s getting ink so he won’t hang around with you, but make sure you take your phone.”

  “Yeah, fine.” Her attitude turns icy again and she moves to step away.

  “Phoenix,” I say, but she continues to ignore me. “Nix,” I say a little louder, because she’s now left the kitchen and has walked away from me. Damn, she’s fucking annoying. “RED!” I bellow, knowing this’ll piss her off.

  It works like a charm. She comes charging in, her face ashen with anger, her eyes wild with the need to smack me one.

  “I told you I don’t like that.”

  “Act like a spoiled bitch and that’s what you’ll get called. Sit your ass down and tell me what the hell is wrong with you this morning.”

  “Nothing.”

  “’Nothin’, my ass.”

  “It’s just…” She sits in the chair opposite me and slumps against the back. Her resolve evaporates.

  “What? And don’t give me bullshit. I fucking hate liars.”

  Her eyes look up from the gaze she had focused on the floor, her blue orbs are full of tears and her mouth is turned down at the corners. She looks so sad.

  “I miss my farm.”

  I fold my arms across my chest and lean back in the chair.

  “Is that it?” I ask, almost dismissing her mood for what it really is, nothing.

  “Is that it?” she repeats my words back to me.
<
br />   I can see a tiny bit of spark coming back into her, like the temper she displayed when I called her Red.

  “Yeah, is that it?”

  “You don’t get it, do you?”

  Get what? I don’t think I’ll ever understand women, even if I live to be a hundred years old.

  “Explain it to me.” Not that I really wanna hear it, but if it’s enough to upset my girl, then I probably should pretend to care.

  “I miss home,” she says as she brings her hands up to her face to hide behind them.

  “Are you kidding me? I thought something serious was going on.”

  “You’re a jerk,” she says as I watch her shoulders shudder and her body vibrate. Obviously she’s crying.

  “So you keep telling me. But seriously, Nix, is that it?”

  She looks up at me, and I think I said something wrong ‘cause she looks M.A.D. Incredibly angry.

  “You’re a dick,” she yells and stands to her feet with her hands on her hips, trying to intimidate me.

  “Whatever, but if that’s the only issue you have, then you really don’t have any problems.”

  “I miss my home, and I want my farm. I want to leave here and go back,” she says as she sweeps her right hand, indicating the clubhouse.

  “It’s too dangerous. Not gonna happen.”

  “Just let me go back.”

  “Nope,” I say, picking my coffee up and drinking some.

  She swipes the mug out of my hand and the hot coffee spills out of the mug as the cup smashes against the fridge, breaking on impact.

  “I want to go home.”

  “Nope,” I say again, looking at the coffee cup that’s been smashed into pieces.

  “I hate you!” she yells as she storms out of the kitchen, like a teenager having a temper tantrum.

  “No you don’t,” I say loud enough for her, though with a lot of humor to my voice.

  Sarge walks into the kitchen and looks between the coffee all over the fridge door, the smashed porcelain on the ground and me, chuckling.

  “That went well,” he says and lets his own laughter rip from his lips. “Heard her shrieking like a banshee out in the yard.”

  “She wants to go home.” I rub my hands over my eyes and try to relax, but knowing she’s pissed isn’t great for me.

  “Women are different,” Sarge says with a shrug.

  “Tell me about it.”

  “Sometimes it’s best to shut the fuck up and not fight ‘em.” Sarge sits in the chair that Nix was sitting in.

  “You pussy-whipped?” I ask as I feel my eyebrows draw together in question.

  “Hmmm.” He reverts back to normal Sarge. “Women wanna be told what to do, but you need to make it look like it’s their idea.”

  “That’s fucked. She should just do what I say and be happy with it.”

  Sarge shakes his head. “She’s right, you’re a dick.”

  I look at Sarge and he shrugs his shoulders, nonchalantly.

  “C’mon wise man, share your many years of wisdom with me,” I taunt him in a fake voice.

  “Make her think it’s a bad idea to go back there. Don’t tell her, just fucking drop hints and shit like that.”

  Huh, drop hints. Sure I can do that. Although it’s easier for me to just tell her she’s not going and for her to listen without throwing a tantrum.

  “We’re ready,” Nix says as she and Milina step into the kitchen.

  Milina’s looking very cute. I’d definitely like to see her and Nix go down on each other while I watch. These two would be hot as hell in a 69 position. Nix on top, sitting on Milina’s face, driving her hips into her face. I wonder if Milina waxes.

  I go to open my mouth to ask her, but for some reason I think that may piss Nix off even more. But hey, doesn’t every chick want to please her man? And watching Nix lick Milina’s cunt would definitely make me happy.

  “Hmmm,” Sarge murmurs, but this time the sound’s more strangled then it has ever been.

  Damn, Sarge has it bad for Milina. Maybe he’s thinking the same thing I am. He better not be thinking of my girl like that, I’ll fucking smash his face in.

  “I can drive us. You don’t have to waste your day with us,” Milina says to Sarge.

  His eyes pop open wide, and I notice right then how bad he has it. Pussy-whipped wimp. I chuckle at him and shake my head.

  “You’re no fucking better,” he quips and stands to take the girls into town. “I’m taking you,” he says to Milina.

  She turns to leave and I notice he puts his hand to the small of her back, guiding her out of the room.

  There’s an age difference between them, but hey, who am I to judge? If they like each other and she can get him hard, then I’m all for it.

  Mind you, a little taste of her and Nix together…

  “Hey, Dark’s not answering. I’m gonna take off and see where the fucker is,” Aaron says, interrupting my Nix/Milina fantasy.

  “Yeah, whatever,” I reply and go right back to thinking about a spread-legged Nix, with Milina eagerly licking her as she fingers her own pussy.

  “I hear there’s trouble brewing down your end,” Emily says into the phone.

  “Not to my knowledge.” I look at the phone to see what time it is, and notice that the girls have been gone for two and a half hours. Aaron hasn’t returned either, and I haven’t heard from Dark all morning.

  “If we step in, you’re not going to like the consequences,” she says, her tone one of warning.

  “No need. There’s no trouble here.” I tap my finger on the wooden meeting table and swivel my chair around to look out to the compound.

  “Supplies are coming your way.”

  “Understood.”

  “Good.” She disconnects the call, leaving me looking out at the yard.

  I get up and leave the meeting room to check on the boys and see what’s happening. Emily’s phone call has put me on edge.

  “Hey,” I say as I watch Jackson, one of the prospects, working on his bike. “Whatcha’ doin’?”

  “Didn’t get pussy last night, so I’m polishing my knobs,” he says with that stupid humor.

  “Was gonna ask if you wanted a hand, but I’ll leave you and your knobs alone.” I take a step back and chuckle at him.

  His bike’s pulled apart and he’s sitting on the ground polishing all the chrome and steel.

  “How ‘bout I don’t pull my knob out and you give me a hand?” Funny, asshole.

  “Nah, don’t wanna touch your knob. And really, it’s probably small and you’d be done in less than five minutes.”

  Jackson laughs and shakes his head. “What you’re saying is you’d touch my knob if it was big?”

  “I’d fucking shoot it.”

  I hear Jackson laughing as I walk back inside to call Sarge and see where the girls are.

  Going over to the bar, I pour myself a Jack and drink it down. Pulling the cell out of my pocket, I dial Nix’s number. The phone rings until it goes to voice mail. Maybe the girls are doing something that prevents Nix from answering.

  I dial Sarge’s phone next, and his goes straight to voicemail. It doesn’t even ring. I put the phone back in my pocket and pick up the bottle.

  Pouring another drink, I lift the tumbler to my lips, but before I even have a chance to drink the whiskey, all hell breaks loose.

  Grit: Chapter 22

  Phoenix

  It’s so cold. My body’s shivering, trying to generate some heat. Jesus, it’s cold. Where am I? Where’s Milina? What’s happening?

  I can smell the cold. It’s crisp and frosty and the cold clings to the inside of my nose.

  My head hurts. Why does it hurt? And why am I so cold?

  I blink and try to focus on where I am, but I can’t see anything.

  I wiggle my toes. Everything feels strange, wrong.

  “Help,” I say, though my voice is weak. I attempt to sit up, but my legs are bound together at the ankles and my arms are tied behind my bac
k.

  What is going on?

  I move my head back and can start making out blurry objects. I blink with heavy eyelids and try to focus again.

  “Jaeger,” I try to talk. My throat hurts; it’s scratchy and dry.

  My eyes gradually focus, and I see that I’m in a room with floor to ceiling silver shelves with tons of frozen food on them.

  The floor I’m lying on is freezing and the cold is cutting straight through to the core of my body. The fine white mist that fills the air tells me I’m in a freezer.

  A walk-in freezer, industrial, exactly like one a restaurant would have. I try to turn my head to see if I can see Milina. She’s tied up and knocked out close to me.

  “Milina,” I say in a hushed voice as I try maneuvering my body toward hers.

  Her eyes are closed and she’s laid out on the floor, as I imagine I was a few moments ago.

  “Milina,” I say again, hoping she hears me and wakes.

  Still, I get nothing from her. She’s silent and still. But her chest is rising and falling, and her eyes are moving frantically behind her eyelids. A bluish bruise is forming under her left eye and her lip has a split in it.

  What the hell happened?

  “Milina,” I say again, louder, but not loud enough to raise suspicion if anyone is outside the freezer, because I have no idea who’s there and what they want with us.

  “Mmm,” she whimpers and tries to move.

  “Shhhh.”

  “Mmm.”

  “Shhhh, Milina, you’ve got to be quiet.”

  I watch as her eyelids flutter open, then close again. She tries to move her arms, but they’re restrained like mine. With clear agitation, she wiggles pointlessly, trying to free herself.

  “Milina, open your eyes,” I say as quietly as I can.

  “What’s happening?” she questions me, though her voice is high and becoming hysterical and panicky.

  “Shhhh, open your eyes, but you have to be quiet.”

  I watch as she continues to futilely tug and move around, trying whatever she can to get loose of the binds.

  “What’s happening, Nix?” she asks as the determination leaves her body and her movements become less intense. “Your forehead is bleeding, Nix. What happened?”