by Tara Oakes
A Lil' Less Broken
Book One
The Kingsmen Series
Tara Oakes
This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.
First edition. July 16, 2014
Copyright 2014 Tara Oakes
Written by Tara Oakes
Book Cover: Image from Tatiana Villa, www.viladesign.net
TO MY LAMBCHOP, MY LOVE
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favorite ebook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
BIKER FRIENDLY REFERENCE
The life of a biker although foreign to most of us, is a very intriguing subculture with it's own laws, rules, language, and traditions. Hopefully this reference will help the rest of us get to know a bit more about them before we take a peak into the lives of Lil's and Jay, two people born and raised in the secret world of the M.C., full of passion, loyalty, fierce family bonds and... danger.
TERMS
1%er -
The small population of biker clubs that consider themselves outside the law. They often run operations in gambling, guns, prostitution, smuggling, paid protection, drugs, and more. They are considered to be the baddest of the bad, and the roughest of the rough.
Brother -
Club members within the same club refer to each other as 'Brother'. They have made a vow to each other to protect and take care of each other as family.
Cage-
An automobile, usually a van.
Church –
A club meeting to be attended by patched brothers only. Most clubs run as a democracy and important matters are voted on during meetings.
Club Mama –
Women that regularly attend events and interact with the M.C. They may aspire to become an Ol' lady one day but do not yet have a patch holder. They may spend time with many different bikers within a club but have loyalty to the club first before a man. They are considered to be a little bit more respected than a sweet butt.
Cut -
Refers to the the leather vest worn by most bikers in a club.
M.C.-
Acronym for Motorcycle Club.
Ol' Lady –
A term of affection used for the main woman, or wife of a club member. She is given his protection and is considered off limits to any other biker. Women are not considered club members, but rather have associations to the club through their Ol' man or their patch holder.
Nomad –
A member of an M.C. that is currently without a specific charter. They are still considered a brother but they choose not to offer specific allegiance to a designated charter, instead they are loyal to the club organization in whole.
Patched In –
When a prospect completes his initiation period and is voted in to become a full fledged club member, or “Brother”
Patches –
The cloth patches or embroidered design added to a bikers vest, or cut, that identifies which club they belong to, the location of their specific charter and their position in it. Other patches can be added to signify milestone events. Example: if the member has ever served prison time for his club, or killed for it.
Piece –
A gun.
Prospect –
Those that desire to become a full fledged patched member must complete an initiation period as a prospect before a final vote is taken as to whether or not they can fully join. Prospect's usually are given the worst assignments and must prove their loyalty and worth to the club.
Rag –
Another term for a leather vest, or cut, but worn by a woman, given to her by her ol' man to signify that she is his “property” and is off limits. An ol' lady's rag does not usually bear the club name, logo or charter as she is not a club member. It simply states “Property of_____”
Sweet Butt –
A term used to describe a woman who is used by members in a club. They are usually welcomed to club parties, or 'Brother only' parties but are never allowed at family events. It is a derogatory term and there is very little respect for these ladies by club members.
Tat –
A tattoo. Full fledged club members, or brothers, often have the club patches permanently tattooed on their body to signify that they are a member even if not wearing their cuts. An Ol' lady will usually have a tattoo to honor her Ol' man to signify that she is his property even if she is not wearing her rag.
CHAPTER ONE
SATURDAY
This is bad. This is so fucking bad. I can't believe this is actually happening. I must have the worst damn luck. If my left cheek wasn't throbbing so much, I could pass this all off as a dream.
The sun was rising higher in the morning sky. If I had to guess, it was probably going on 8 a.m., maybe 9. I hadn't slept in thirty hours, but sleep deprivation was the least of my worries, adrenaline was still coursing through me keeping the fatigue at bay. What was taking so long? I know enough about this crap to know that I should either be dead, or worse by now. I lift my eyes to scan the men keeping a watchful eye over me, and decide that death would be my choice.
The man closest to me reeked of beer and body odor. His tattoos were large and faded-skulls, thorns, chicks with big tits... yada yada yada. The same cliche ink that most of these guys were sporting. His large black boots were covered in dirt and worn. I glance up, taking stock as I go. Dirty jeans, splattered with blood, mud and who knows what else. Prince Charming notices my rising eyes and grabs his crotch, thrusting his hips toward me.
"You see something you want, girlie?" he spits as he gyrates to me. Bile forms in my throat, and I gulp down my disgust.
"Nahhh... I'm good." This is REALLY fucking bad. Ok. I need to think of my options. No one knows I'm here. I was supposed to sneak into town last night, meet up with Christine and some girl's for her bachelorette party and then clear out first thing this morning before anyone caught wind that I was back. I should have known better. If Christine hadn't been my closest friend since childhood, I would have stayed away. Options. What the hell are my options, here?
The roar of motorcycles quickly approaching practically gives me whiplash as my head jerks up to see. Great. Well, at least I don't have to worry about options anymore. I won't be needing them. It was now out of my hands.
I watched as the bikes cleared past me, sitting on an old wooden picnic bench in the middle of the fenced in lot. I counted each one, as an invisible knife slowly tore at my gut with each passing Harley. The first, carried a huge man bearing the nastiest scowl I had ever seen partially hidden by dark sunglasses. His black leather vest covered his matching t-shirt. I couldn't have been more than thirty feet away, but I didn't need to squint and try to read the words in patches and embroidery on his cut. I knew them by heart.
Vince, my godfather, was nothing to mess with. I've known a lot of rough guys in my life but he topped the cake. As the president of the Kingsmen MC he was respected for that roughness, having earned every bit of it. He could also be a teddy bear, although I seriously doubted that I would be seeing that side of him today.
If Vince had come alone, I could probably have handled it. The immense feelings of disappointment and shame might have been manageable if it was only him that came to my rescue today. But no, I have no fucking luck remember?, the whole god damned calvary had to come instead.
I resolve myself to the inevitable amount of shit that was about to come down on
me, as I watch Vince dismount his Harley, followed by my dad Butch, my brother Tiny and my 'uncles' Chaps, Dewey and Clink. The last rider stayed on his bike, staring at me. My breathing hitched as I locked eyes with him. There was no emotion in those eyes at the moment, although I had seen enough to last me a lifetime.
Tiny strode past Vince and nearly reaches me before my lovely groin grabbing captor blocks his path. "Untie her fuckin' hands right now you fuckin' bastard!" Tiny screams at the man who I have nicknamed 'Crotch' for the time being. Vince and my dad grab his shoulders back restraining him from tearing the other guy's head clean off.
Vince holds him back as he stares down 'Crotch' with invisible daggers. He speaks out to Tiny without breaking eye contact with my guard. "Not here brother... we handle this inside with Shade." He softens his voice but not his gaze, "You O.K Lil's? You hurt at all?" he asks out to me.
Besides the throbbing in my left cheek from being backhanded, the ropes cutting into my wrists and the splinters poking into my ass from the ancient table beneath not to mention lack of clothing (I had been to a bachelorette party after all), I'd say I was in pretty good shape. Clamping my knees together, suddenly aware of my abundance of bare flesh I blushed and whispered my answer. "Never been better." The sarcasm isn't lost on any of us.
The lingering rider finally dismounts his bike, placing his helmet on the handlebar, and calls out. "Enough of this bullshit. Let's fuckin’ do this already." He has such an air of authority about him, that even I can't help but fall in line. His sandy brown hair has that disheveled, recently mussed look to it. What I wouldn’t give to run my fingers through that hair right now, pull it down close to me...... "You.” He finally breaks his stare from mine and addresses my newfound, pelvic obsessed friend. He snaps his fingers as he points to my wrists tied together, resting in my lap. "Untie her now."
Turning on his heel he stalks away, into the building behind him. Vince and my dad push Tiny in the same direction and follow through the doorway. With all the shit that has gone down in the last twelve hours, I am not prepared to see him. Not now, not like this. Jasper was my first love, my only love. I haven't seen him in two years and the first glimpse he sees of me is tied, all sluted up, and in a shit storm of trouble. Great. This day cannot possibly get any fucking worse.
******
At least an hour must have passed. I sit rubbing my wrists to try and quiet the stinging. The dirtbags hovering around me have since backed off, giving me a little breathing room. This is torture, sitting here with nothing to do but think of Jasper, or "Jay" as the club called him. Nothing but minute after minute to think about how much I loved him, needed him and hated him. He was everything I wanted, everything I needed. He also broke my heart and crushed my soul along with it. I guess you could say that's where this whole damn mess started.
He was young, I was younger. It could have been called fate. We grew up together, born and raised in the MC. We always knew that he would patch in when he was old enough. He and Tiny patched in together. It was a really proud moment for our family, like passing the torch to the next generation. Our dad's were so pleased that their boys would carry on the tradition and the club that they built with their own bare hands would live on in the sons.
I had always had a crush on Jay. He was the drop dead gorgeous older boy who had swagger dripping out of his pores. I wasn't the only one to notice, either. He was never shy with the girls and he and Tiny always had tramps and sluts hanging all over them. I was the annoying younger sister that they never wanted around. After several years of being told to scram off or one too many pranks pulled on me, I gave them their space and started to grow up on my own.
I never quite fit in with the girls my age. They were into Barbie dolls, makeup, boy bands and shopping. I was into sports, books and school. I always kept my grades up and had one or two boys from class interested in me. That never lasted long though as Tiny and Jay would always find a way to scare them off.
THEN
When I turned sixteen, something changed. Not suddenly or out of nowhere, but gradually. Jay started to pop up randomly when Tiny wasn't around. He was twenty three and had just patched into the MC as a full member. I hadn't seen him much during the couple of years that they were prospecting to get into the club. I'm sure they were kept busy with club bullshit and nonsense.
He was so hot, and older and experienced and tough. I was none of those things and naturally drawn to him like a moth to a flame. He was strong and I felt safe and protected by him. He called me baby and I would just melt into his blue eyes. Butch wasn't thrilled that we were spending so much time together. I was always warned to keep my grades up and that nothing would be getting in the way of going to college. Especially not some 'hot shot, little shit that wanted in my pants'. Yeah, dad was a real poet.
After a couple of weeks I noticed that all of the boys starting to avoid me, even the one or two that could always be counted on to ask me to see a movie on the weekend or study for a test together. I'm sure seeing the older, tough as nails biker dropping me off in the morning and picking me up every afternoon didn't help matters much. It didn't take long until Jay was hanging around field hockey practice and showing up to games, even our travel ones.
When a month or so had passed I started to get the impression that maybe I wasn't imagining the hot, thick, tension between us. Maybe it wasn't just a kid sister protectiveness, maybe it was something more. Any doubts I had were quelled one night at a charter party back at the MC's clubhouse. It wasn't unusual for me to be there, considering both my brother and my pop were patched members. Jay stayed by my side the entire night.. critiquing my pool shot, sneaking me cups of beer instead of soda. By the time I would usually leave these parties... you know.. when the brothers would pair off with their lays for the night and the clubhouse started to resemble the set of a porn flick... Jay grabbed my hand and led me to the roof of the main building, far away from and out of earshot of the moaning and all out debauchery downstairs.
We lay side by side on the sloping roof, staring up at the clear night. It never got too cold in Chisholm, South Carolina.. especially on a warm May night like that one but suddenly I started to shiver. Jay pulled me close, noticing my shaking, "Shhhh.. baby.. you cold?"
I wasn't cold. But, somehow it seemed like the right thing to do to agree with him. Especially if it meant that he would be holding on to me to warm me with his steamy body heat. Jay smelled so good. Being that close to him I became enveloped in his soapy clean muskiness. He rubbed my shoulders and then my arms, trying to warm me from my 'chill'. The heat from the friction soon spread over me, flushing my face and neck and plummeting to my core. I had never felt anything like that before and could only compare it to the feeling one might get from a free falling elevator. Responding to these intense sensations, my body started to squirm slightly, searching for some type of anchor to calm the chaos.
Jay tucked his chin into the crook behind my ear and whispered in a raspy, husky voice. "That better, babe?", his lips lingered and explored the sensitive skin, breathing deep into my flowing hair. My eyes began to flutter and I held my breath afraid of what would escape if I tried to answer.
When I didn't respond for several moments, Jay pressed on my shoulders pulling me to him while rolling himself slightly over, hovering and placing his hands on either side while lifting himself directly above. With only an inch or so between us, he stared into me and locked my gaze with his. I could feel the breath from his lips come onto mine as he spoke. "I'm not gonna play around with this anymore, babe. You my girl?"
My eyes widened, taking in the full weight of his words. His Girl? How could I be his girl? I'm still sixteen. I'm the annoying little brat that they used to play tricks on and tease until I ran crying to mom, or Jay's mom. He was twenty three, gorgeous and a real bad ass. What did he need a girl for? I mean it was nothing he couldn't get anytime he wanted from the club mama's hanging around every night, or the sweet butts that came slinking in for parties.
> I could feel my breath quickening and my pulse racing. Jay's hips slowly started moving down onto mine and settled their full weight between my thighs, then a slight bit of pressure started pressing into me. He hadn't blinked once. He just stared into me as my eyes raced around and my shallow, labored breathing tried it's damnedest to regulate itself. He brought his lips on top of mine, brushing their plumpness delicately over mine. "I asked.... are you my girl?"
Heat soared down to my legs and raced around into my stomach. My breathing finally slowed and I answered in the best way I could. "I don't know.... am I?" Jay seemed to like my response. His eyes flickered a hint of mischief and then hooded themselves.
"Damn right you're my girl..." He crashed his lips down on top of mine. I arched my neck up to meet him as his lips surrounded mine and pressed into them, onto them and around them. My mouth was putty in his as he guided me expertly deeper together. His lips parted slightly and I felt his moistness urging me to follow his lead. I had kissed a boy before, (well two if you counted Joey McDonough in the seventh grade) but this was different. This was kissing a man.
His tongue powerfully stroked my lips, first my top lip and then just as strong on my lower, urging them to open further for him. I followed his unspoken directions and allowed him to enter into me, searching for my own tongue and the comfort it would give him. He swirled around thrusting in, exploring what was hidden inside, maneuvering mine to match his rhythm. He tasted just as good as he smelled. A bit smoky, a bit spicy and a helluva lot like a deep musk would taste.