by Sam Crescent
From the moment she’d seen Vengeance at the cemetery, and he had sat with her, something had changed. He’d not looked at her as if she was some kind of crazy person for staring at her parents’ and fiancé’s headstones in the middle of the night. He had seen her, and she couldn’t recall the last time someone had looked at her in a way that made her feel noticed. He’d seen her for herself. It was crazy, she knew that and understood it, but there was no changing from what he had awoken.
“Maybe you should go to lunch, and just calm down.” Julie pulled her close and kissed her head.
Yeah, fresh air would do her good. She grabbed her bag, headed outside, and went across the street to the little coffee shop. After grabbing a cup of coffee, she took a seat at the table by the window, eating her lunch and staring at people outside. Some glanced her way, and gave her that sad smile that they seemed to think made everything okay.
Out in public, she kept to herself. Blowing out a breath, she stared at her food. She wanted that feeling again. The freedom of living, of basking in the glow of the slight danger from doing something that was completely naughty.
Pulling out her cell phone, she typed the Soldiers clubhouse into an Internet search and waited. Although she assumed she wouldn’t find anything, Constance was surprised when a number came up in the search results. Maybe she should have, but she didn’t even hesitate as she called it.
“Yeah?”
A moment of silence stretched on. Had she called the right number? Was this an actual direct line to a biker group? Surely they had to be kind of legitimate, right?
“Um, is this the Soldiers of Wrath Clubhouse?”
“Yeah. This is Weasel. Who the hell is this?”
Her heart thundered hard. “Can I speak to Vengeance?”
“Who is this?” His voice was hard, cold.
“Tell him it’s Constance.”
There was silence, and then in the distance she heard a shout. Glancing around the café, she couldn’t help but smile. Julie, everyone around her, they all expected something specific from her. A routine. Her mother had told her she had to uphold the family name, and with that, it meant not doing anything stupid or rebellious. She had to think about more than herself.
They were gone. She could think of herself now. She could be alive and free, trying to live for herself, and not the idea of what someone else wanted.
“Hello, sweetness,” Vengeance said. “What can I do for you?”
Hearing his voice had her body tightening, her heart racing. She glanced down, still smiling. “Does your offer for a ride still stand?” she asked.
“You want to go for another ride?”
“Yeah, I really do.”
6
“So tomorrow then?” Constance said, her voice soft, sweet, and doing all kinds of things to him.
“Yeah, I’ll pick you up from work.”
“Sounds great.”
He disconnected the call, stared at the wall, and wondered if this was how Demon and all the other brothers felt when they’d found the females they wanted in their lives.
She’d found out where he was, , although that probably wouldn’t have been that hard, but hell, he felt pretty fucking good.
Truth was he already knew her details—her full name, her address, phone number. Fuck, she’d probably think he was a stalker if she knew all the digging he’d done on her. But it wasn’t like that. He felt this connection with her, and he didn’t want to pass it up as this one time he met a girl in a graveyard.
He hung the phone up, thinking about their plans for tomorrow.
“What was that about?” Weasel asked, amusement in his voice.
“It was about none of your fucking business.”
Weasel flipped him off, and Vengeance chuckled. The brothers in the club were nosy fuckers, always wanting to know what the fuck was going on with everyone else. This was a family, after all, but still, he wanted to keep what he had felt with Constance to himself. He wanted her, that was undeniable, but opening up about any of it, especially with a fellow Patch, was not what he wanted right now.
He headed down the hall, opened the door that led to the basement, and once at the landing he turned the light on. They stored a lot of shit down here, but there was a punching bag, some old as fuck weights, and privacy.
The latter was why Vengeance worked out down here instead of in the main workout room they had set up.
He took his cut and shirt off, started warming up by bouncing on the balls of his feet and cracking his neck, and went to town on the bag. He kept at it until he was sweaty, the hours seemed to pass, and his knuckles were bruised, the skin starting to open up.
The entire time he thought of Constance, what he wanted with her, and how he wanted to keep her close. How in the fuck was he going to keep his cool when what he wanted, what he felt like he needed in his heart, was her in his life?
She stared at the rose, the yellow color meaning friendship. The bud was perfect, the stem long. The thorns on it were deadly, but the intent and message clear.
Beauty can be dangerous and painful.
Constance ran her finger over the stem, her thoughts on Vengeance, on their plans for tomorrow. He’d been happy to hear from her, and she’d felt this flutter of excitement at that, at the fact his voice had lit up when she’d spoken.
That gentleness, that feeling like when he looked at her he really saw who she was, seemed to go against the whole biker persona she had in her head. Sure, he was dangerous, and could be violent to those who crossed him, but then he showed her a different side.
Vengeance showed her that with that darkness there was light. She had her own demons, her own misgivings about the world, herself, and of course life. But when she was with Vengeance, even if it had just been for that one night, she felt like none of that mattered.
The sharp pain that sliced through her finger had her gasping. She looked at the digit, the thorn having gone through the soft pad of her index finger. She watched the blood well up, that little bead of redness making her transfixed, almost mesmerized.
“Oh, honey.” Abigail, one of the older women who worked at the flower shop part time, handed her a napkin. “Be careful. Roses can be fickle bitches.”
The bell above the door rang, and Abigail went to help the customer. Constance’s mind went to Vengeance again.
Could it be possible to feel that connection with someone so soon? Could the whole insta…whatever, be real? She really wanted to believe it.
She really wanted to believe that being meek and delicate, trying to pretend that life wasn’t about danger and adventure, wasn’t how she should be.
But the thought of Vengeance, the thrill she felt with him, make her believe there was more in this world than she ever thought.
And that was invigorating.
7
He wasn’t some fucking teenager. He was a grown fucking man, and yet Vengeance was nervous. This was the first time he’d actually taken the time to care about going on a date with a woman. The club whores were always there, always available for cock, no matter who you were.
Constance wasn’t anything like those women. Besides the fact she sat near graveyards at night, and not on dicks, when he was with her, he felt something. She was different, but not a weird kind of different, just … different.
Climbing off his bike, he waited for her to come out of her home, and he didn’t have to wait long. There she came, looking ready for a ride. She wore jeans that seemed to mold to every curve of her body.
“Hey,” she said with a hint of a smile on her face. “How are you?”
“I’m doing great.”
“Are you sure you don’t mind coming out here, giving me a ride?”
He had several erotic images of just how good she could ride him. Pushing them to the back of his mind, he simply smiled. “I didn’t mind at all. I wasn’t doing anything.”
She tucked some hair behind her ear, and he reached for his helmet. “No, please. Don’t make
me wear that thing. I want to feel the wind in my hair and on my face. I don’t want to be stuffed inside a horrible helmet that has probably seen way too many germs to count.”
“You’re the only one that has worn it,” he said.
Constance frowned. “Huh?”
“I don’t have any bitches at my back when I’m riding. I have the helmet but no one has ever worn it.”
“Wait, you’re telling me no one has been on the back of your bike?”
“No one I care about if we have an accident.” Shit, had he said the wrong thing?
She stared at him, hand on her hip. “You think we’ll have an accident?”
“Nope. I’m damn good and haven’t had an accident in years. However, doesn’t mean there isn’t some asshole drunk who’ll veer into my path, and then let’s say, the rest is history. I’m not willing to take a chance that you could get hurt. Are you?”
He loved it when she tilted her head to the side, and she stared at him. He had to wonder what was going around her brain. The tip of her tongue slid across her lip, and it teased him in more ways than he wanted to imagine.
“I can see your point. Still. This sucks.”
He chuckled.
“I don’t know if I want to go on a ride anymore.”
Now, that simply wouldn’t do.
“Put the damn helmet on. When we get to a spot that I’m happy with, you can take it off until we head back home.”
She gave a little squeal and then placed the helmet firmly on her head.
He hadn’t been lying about the helmet. There hadn’t been a woman on the back of his bike in a long time. He didn’t believe in riding bitches that were not his women. It was just some personal code that he stuck by and refused to back down.
Constance wrapped her arms around his waist and seemed to snuggle in his back. “Where are we going?” she asked.
They were just going to hit the road and not look back. “Try not to be too afraid.”
She wasn’t afraid.
The moment he pulled away from the curb and rode out of town, leaving behind everyone she knew, she felt exhilarated. There was nothing that could stop her or hold her back. No one was going to stare at her with sadness because she had lost someone. There was nothing that she lost or gained here with him.
Vengeance didn’t treat her any differently. She was just a woman to him, and maybe she shouldn’t be okay with that, but she really was.
Pressing her head against his back, she closed her eyes, basking in the feel of being taken away from it all. A white knight was the last thing this man was, but in that moment, it felt like he was.
The machine rumbled beneath her thighs, and the scent of leather was heady, and not only that, the power that she saw in Vengeance as he rode was heightening every single one of her senses, and she couldn’t stop the pulse between her legs.
There had never been a time that Constance could remember being aroused. She wasn’t some squeaky clean virgin, but she also hadn’t felt desire … ever. Brando had told her that it would come in time, and that she needed to relax and to learn to trust him.
She had trusted him, so completely.
The sex hadn’t been a problem. It had been her. Brando had to use lubrication to help her. It was strange thinking about sex right now with a complete stranger. Brando had been everything a girl needed for her first time, and her love. He had been her one and only, and she had loved him. Of course she had. He’d been the guy that every girl wanted. The problem was, he’d been sweet, kind, caring, and perfect in every single part of their life. He’d not wanted to ravish her. When he kissed, she couldn’t help but wonder if he was thinking about how her parents would approve.
He had loved that, her parents’ approval.
Time passed, and her thoughts of Brando didn’t fade, not at all. Finally, Vengeance stopped at a long strip of track.
“Where are we?” she asked.
“A race course, or what remains of one.” He held his hand out. “Pass me the helmet, and I’ll give you the ride you really want.”
She thought about sex, and all the dirty things in between. Removing her helmet, she handed it back to him.
“Can I ask you a question?” she asked.
“Sure.”
“Sex, is it good?”
He paused and glanced at her. “What?”
“Forget it. Forget I said anything.”
“What’s with the talk of sex?”
“I don’t know. I guess I’m just curious about what you do, with your women?”
He smirked. “You do not need to worry about that.” He placed the helmet on the ground. “You better hold on tight. I’m going to give you the ride of your life.”
She let out a squeal as he jerked forward, to which they both laughed. She quickly wrapped her arms around him, holding him tightly. She was ready for the ride of her life.
8
The feeling of her arms wrapped around his waist, her body pressed tightly to Vengeance’s had arousal slamming into him. The arousal certainly wasn’t misplaced, and he wanted Constance, but the truth was he could tell she was fragile.
She could break, just snap in half. He was a rough biker, liked sex a certain way: rough, nothing held back, and doing any of that with Constance could make her crack even more.
“Oh my God,” she cried out, her voice high-pitched, her excitement clear.
He accelerated, going faster, taking the turns sharply, hugging the edge. He felt the wind in his hair. She held him tighter, her inner thighs pressed tightly to his outer ones.
Vengeance didn’t slow, didn’t stop. He kept going around the track, letting the feeling of being free wash over them. It was only when he felt her body loosen behind him that he slowed. He pulled around the track at a slower pace, then stopped completely.
He dismounted and helped Constance off the bike. She started laughing, and that had him grinning.
“That was…” she said, but stopped and ran her hands through her hair. “That was incredible.” She turned around, the smile on her face huge, her excitement clear.
God, she was beautiful, so fucking gorgeous he couldn’t stop myself from pulling her close, grabbing the back of her head, and claiming her mouth.
She felt his lips on hers, strong, masculine, yet soft, sweet. A rush of heat and arousal slammed into her, and Constance breathed out, feeling that warmth spread through her. It felt good, incredible even.
He pulled back, his lips slightly red, the scruff on his face reminding her that he was on the rougher side, dangerous. But she wanted that. With Vengeance she felt alive, felt like she was breathing again.
She was wet between her thighs, her nipples hard, this arousal something unusual but pleasant, welcome.
“How was that?”
She reached up and touched her lips, this slight tingle spreading through her.
“Did that cross the line?”
He seemed genuinely concerned that maybe he’d pushed her too far. This side of him went up against his outer appearance, the hardcore biker he was.
“It was…” God, how could she explain it? How could she even tell him what he made her feel, how he made her feel like she wasn’t in this box again, trapped, suffocating?
“Fuck,” he said, his voice gritty, harsh. He ran a hand over his face, glanced around, and finally exhaled.
“Vengeance.”
She waited until he looked at her. “You make me feel… alive.”
They stared at each other, the moonlight above bright, casting a silvery glow.
“I want you, Constance, but I know I can’t push you—”
“I won’t break.” Although at one point she’d thought she was far too fragile for anything, especially a life outside of the perfect box she’d been inside. “And I want you, too. I want the feeling you give me, the sensation I feel when I’m with you.” She tightened her hands into fists at her sides, feeling bared, exposed. But it felt good.
He pulled her in close, h
is big, hard body pressed against hers. He smelled of clean sweat and leather, of masculinity and desire. There was this chemistry between them that couldn’t be denied. She couldn’t deny it, didn’t want to.
“Kiss me again,” she whispered.
He cupped her nape, pulled her in close, and did just that.
9
Vengeance didn’t have a fucking clue what was happening to him, not one clue. One minute he was going through life feeling like he was hitting a brick wall. Then one stumble into a graveyard, and now here he was, kissing Constance.
Her lips were so soft as he slid his tongue across her mouth, and she released a little gasp, allowing him to delve into her mouth. She stroked her tongue across his, and he held her tightly, needing something hard to press her against. Spotting a tree past her shoulder, he moved her so that he had her against it. Taking hold of her hands, he locked their fingers together and held them above her head as he ravished her mouth.
Biting her lip as he pulled away, he stared into her eyes. She was on fire for him.
“Tell me what you want,” he said.
She licked her lips, and her gaze landed on his mouth.
“I want you to be with me.” She gasped. “I shouldn’t have said that.”
“Is that what you want?”
She nodded. “Yes, it’s what I want. I want you.” She was shaking. “I’ve never been so wanton before, but this feels so… right.”
He glanced back at his bike and was about to lead her back, when she held him close to her again. “No. I don’t want you to go back there. I want us to do it here and now.”
“Anyone could stop and see.”
“I don’t care. I need you, Vengeance. If we go, I will find a reason for this not to happen. I want you. Do you want me?”