Ash: Devil's Crucifix MC

by Carmen Faye

  I know I should be taking it easy. All the doctor’s discharges papers had it in big, bold writing to not perform any “strenuous activities,” but I just couldn’t listen. I threw those out, along with my pain medications and inhalers as soon as I got back from my shopping trip. I didn’t need those. Using meds would just be a trap for me, a reason to give myself excuses for putting off my fire department exam another month.

  I had twenty days to get back into shape and more. This was not my time to focus on what had happened to me or what pain I may be in. This was my time to push through all the bullshit and get the one thing I wanted in life.

  It’s all easier said than done, though. How can you run away from your problems when a huge, bulky, chain-smoking reminder is standing outside every door you go in? Marco and Vin (I’m not sure of his name -- I’m never awake when he’s around) have been with me almost every single hour. I haven’t once seen them take a break to grab some food or even go to the bathroom. When I eat, they eat. When I go out, they go out. And when I workout, well, Marco stands there and looks at me like I am the most insane person he has seen in his life.

  I can’t really blame him, though. I mean, I am acting like a madwoman. This is hour number ten in this goddamn gym. Everyone’s gone home back to their families and lives. Even Jamie, who has spent the last four days sulking around the fire department like a wounded little wimp, has left me alone. Despite me clearly wanting nothing to do with him, he still has the nerve to talk to me every once in awhile, and in the case of tonight, offer me a drink out.

  Obviously, I refused. I don’t need any of that. I don’t need Jamie with his bullshit pandering and his “You should really take it easy, Dani. You know what the doctors told you.” I don’t need my mom who makes it a habit to stop by every single day at the Piedmont Hotel with some fresh foods and a horrified disapproving look. I don’t even need Ash Cooper with that bravado and darkness that I spend my nights trying to figure out.

  Well…maybe I do need Ash Cooper. The last time we spoke over the phone, I told him to come find me. I practically begged him to make a move. In that moment, I had no idea what came over me. It was most likely the adrenaline and rage taking over after finally getting Marco, the stranger stalker on the motorcycle, to tell me who he was and hand over his boss’ information. Bet he got an earful about that from Ash. Since then, he’s only talked to me twice to say good morning and to introduce Vin.

  Four days has passed since then, and my days have been a struggle not to think about Ash. I know, realistically, I shouldn’t get sucked in. The news reports were still showing his face almost daily, though not as the number one news story, and the fires are burning all over town. If that arsonist were Ash, wouldn’t he know to stay low? I know people and I know he was a clever guy. He wouldn’t put himself at risk.

  So why am I? That teasing plea for him to come find me was like dipping my toe in a pool of ice water. I know it will end up just freezing me, so why try it? Why am I so mystified by this person who did one nice thing and then disappeared on me? My life has become all these questions about who I am and how far I am willing to step into the dark for answers.

  Nineteen…Twenty…Twenty-one…I had to get to twenty-five jumps. Just a few more to go. My body can do this. I know it. Keep going, Dani. Do this for the department. Do this for the force! That shiny fireman's badge is glaring at me in my mind, calling my name. I can’t give up now. I can’t stop to think anymore about what was going on. I had my break; my fun was over. I have to push through this…

  “Wow. I don’t think I could even jump that high--”

  The dark rumble of a voice followed by the slam of the door shocks me as I fall backwards, my feet missing the landing by at least ten inches. I land hard on my back, my head just making the mat. My feet still dangle in the air as I see him walk quickly towards me, a smile on his face.

  “Sorry about that, kid. Didn’t mean to break your concentration or scare you. I actually thought there would be other people in this gym.” Ash looks down at me with those wild eyes and the hair with the small curls at the end. They make a black, hazy halo around his square jawed face.

  This is really the first time I’m getting an earnest look at him, and I hate to admit that even as I wither in pathetic pain on this wrestling mat, the insides of me burn.

  He offers a large, tan and tattooed hand to me. But I brush him off, using my hands to force myself up to my elbows. There’s a bit of pain as I put weights on the still-fresh scars, but it’s nothing I can’t handle. “No,” I reply softly as my voice seems to evacuate with the air in my lungs. “Everyone usually leaves to go back home after about 10 at night.”

  “Not you, though? That’s pretty impressive considering most people would still be in bed with the damage you took.”

  I reach for a towel as I try to hide the red, patchy marks on my arms. I hadn’t really noticed how they shine so brightly in the light or how the small, bubbling blisters look moments away from taking over my skin. I’ve never been this vain before, but something about Ash’s eyes staring directly at them makes me want to cover up completely in a full on burka.

  I bit down hard on my lip as I say matter-of-factly, “I didn’t ‘take damage.’ I was in a fire. That’s it. I’m fine -- thanks for asking.”

  “Would someone who is ‘fine’ be working out in an empty firehouse gym at midnight? Something tells me there’s something else on your mind.” He walks over to a stool and pulls it up to where I am still sitting on the ground. He slowly looks up the length of my heaving, sweating body as I try to catch my breath.

  I’m dressed in my regular workout gear, minus my top. I took that off as soon as Jamie left the room. I couldn’t bear to have him staring at me like that. But now that I had some privacy, all that was left was a black sports bra and a pair of thin biker shorts.

  “There’s nothing on my mind except passing my fire department exam next month. I’ve already fallen behind, no thanks to…”

  “To me?” he asks, his hand dramatically on his heart as if I am trying to wound him.

  “I didn’t say that. I am still on the fence on if I trust you when you say you didn’t start those fires.”

  “Still, you blame me.” He catches my eyes as I try to look away. We’re caught in this deadly glare-off where no one really is the winner.

  “I don’t blame you. You saved my life. I just don’t know if I trust you. There’s a big difference.”

  “Well, you shouldn’t trust me. I’m not a good person…” There’s hesitation in his voice as he tries to stiffen his back and sit up a little straighter. “I make a lot of people’s lives a living hell. I deal drugs, I organize crime, I make people do whatever the hell I want. And I’ve seen good people die.”

  My mouth goes dry as I ask, “Did you kill anyone?”

  “What does it matter to you?”

  “That wasn’t an answer, Ash. I’ve been honest with you.” I stand up and walk towards the water jug in the corner. It’s almost completely out. I grab one of the paper cups on the side and pretend to be preoccupied with filling it up and taking a sip over and over again.

  Frankly, I didn’t want to know his answer. What did his past matter to me besides what he did for me? I’m not one to judge a man by his deeds. I’m one to judge him based on how he treats me and the people I love. That’s what my daddy always said to do when you met a new person.

  “Honest with you? You’re not being honest with me, Danielle. Or is it Dani?” He, too, stands up and heads over to where I am standing.

  I can practically feel the heat radiate off of him to my bare back even though he is feet away. He lives up to that name. I spin backwards to face him, shoving a cup of water towards him as I answer quickly. “It’s Dani. Danielle is what my mom and da… my mom calls me. And how am I not being honest with you? You haven’t asked me anything yet. You come in here and you pretend to know everything and anything, you talk about killing people, but I’m the one on trial
here?”

  “Ouch, girl. Back down.” He takes the water down in one long sip before crumpling it in his hand and tossing it into the nearby wastebin. “I meant you weren’t being honest with what was on your mind. I know guys who work out as obsessively as you. We call them ‘gym heads.’ They bulk up for whatever reason they can think of -- maybe a competition or because they want to become an enforcer, but it’s all just a front. They’re always hiding something.

  “There was this one guy in our club, Westly. He was always at the gym, pouring down protein powders, doing all this crazy doping shit. No one really knew why. He was already one of the biggest, toughest guys we had. No one would mess with him if you saw him. Even I was a little intimidated. We called him the Wall because no Hells Ranger would even dare get up in his business. But eventually, it came out. Guy was on the run from the law. Killed a woman back in Seattle and was hiding out. That’s when I figured it out. Westly didn’t work out because he wanted to look differently or get up higher in club ranks. He did it because people like you have no control over your lives and need something to focus on while you just sit back and wait for something to happen.”

  “I have control.”

  “That’s a line.” He steps closer to me, his hands relaxed at his side. “You look like a madwoman. A hot madwoman, I’ll give you that. But you look like you have got shit on your mind that you’re not ready to let out yet.”

  “I have control.” I repeat quietly, under my breath.

  His muscular arm stretches towards my face as he places his thumb on my chin, just like that day in the parking lot.

  I repeat one more time, this time firmer and as loud as I can muster, “I have control.”

  “Prove it, Dani.”

  I toss my half-drunk cup of water onto the ground as I grab his arm, pulling him straight towards me. His large body slams to the ground with my weight falling easily on top of him. I quickly pin him under my legs, my fingers wrapping around his wrists and arms just slightly above his head. It’s a move I’ve practiced a hundred times in self-defense classes, but I’ve never done it in real life to a person, let alone a person like the man I have resting under my legs.

  My heartbeat quickens as I try to calculate my next move. But there is nothing, no path out of this. He is staring up at me with eyes that shine in the hanging light above us. He doesn’t try to break free. He doesn’t even move his lower half. Time stands still as our panting, shocked breaths lock into place.

  There’s only one thing to do. I lower myself down to him, not letting go of my grasp of his arms, as my lips find his. Nothing will ever be the same.

  Chapter 10

  Holy hell. Did I just do that? Did I just kiss Ash Cooper? What the fuck am I doing? What am I thinking? This isn’t right. This so isn’t right. It was a momentary lapse of judgment. It was just him taunting me getting the better of me. I have to break my lips free from his, but they’re just so soft, so wet. He tastes a bit like smoke and earth, all things that make a good man.

  His tongue massages the insides of my mouth, expertly exploring inside of me, while my head leads the way. It’s frantic and furious with neither of us wanting to break first for air. Our hands wrap up into one another until I pull them down towards my sides, just next to my knees. He struggles against me, wrapping them around the back of my thighs so his fingers and thumbs rest just on the thin layer of spandex covering the back of my slit.

  Every part of me wants him like this, with me on top. He was right: I don’t have any control in my life, but it sure doesn’t feel like he was going to give me any either. The way he is subtly controlling the movement of my mouth, how his hands rub up against me just so, how he bites down on my lip when I let out a soft moan. If I am going to have him, I am going to have to give up some of my power.

  I sit up, pulling away from him like a soft snap. I use his hands a cushion to lift myself up onto my knees. He stares up at me as I undo my hair from the tight ballerina bun on the top of my head. The long golden curls fall quick against my chest. I brush it all to one side as I place a hand to his chest, feeling the curve of his sternum through his tight black t-shirt.

  Black. Always black. He has darkness written all over him. Even the black, blue, and graying tattoos that trace his neck resemble smoke clouds crawling up the side of his lean, sculpted body. My hand travels up towards the marks till a fingertip just barely scrapes the surface of his prickled, hot skin. I move upwards to his neck so my fingernails lay into the underside of his long jaw. They wrap around his neck so he is forced to lift off of the ground.

  He floats me off of the ground so I am resting on his hips with my back up against his hitched knees. I lean back slightly, letting him take me all in. I feel the pressure of his hands on the curve of my thighs and hips move through my thin stomach. The roughness of his skin mixes with the moisture still sticking to my body. I let my back fully sprawl out onto him as my head tips back looking up at the ceiling. My eyes snap shut, enjoying him outlining the curve of me.

  His hands reach the underside of my breasts as he quickly cups them together. They just barely fit his whole palms before spilling out the sides of his fingers. He rubs them tightly together and then closed, moving them in slow, agonizing circles that make my toes curl into the mat for support. How can such an innocent touch feel so badly needed?

  As his forefingers continue to massage deeply into my chest, his thumbs transfer to my back to find the hooks of my bra. I have no idea how he does it (all that practice?), but he manages to release the clasps, sending the tight fabric of my sports bra flying free on the ends. Natural instinct has my hands flying to catch my naked breasts from exposure, but he catches one of my hands in mid-air and softly lays it back on the ground next to his legs. I let it dangle by the side, willing it to stay in place.

  He lies back for a second. Even with my eyes closed, I can feel the strength of his stare on my large breasts. My chest is practically heaving with desire. Make a move. Take them. Touch me. Please, God! Do something. It is painful enough to just want his contact; it is worse when you want him to take you in the worst of ways.

  Ash lets out this long, tickled laugh, one that shakes his entire body under me. I pull myself up against his knees to see him do me such an injustice. He sighs as he says so satisfied, “I have never seen tits as beautiful as these. Who knew?”

  Before I can stop him, punish him for being cruel and a tease, he dives in face first between the line of my breasts. His hands push the full parts of my sides together against his face so I can feel his stubble rub roughly against me. Those thumbs again appear as they circle my darkened nipples that have formed little arrows at their tips.

  He pinches them slightly with the thumb and his pointer. Even though it’s a tiny little movement, it sends monumental shock waves across my skin. I practically convulse between my thighs as I lean my weight back into his hips, rocking slightly with the waves of his hands pushing me deeper into the rhythm.

  Ahead of me was this guy, this amazingly good-looking guy working my breasts and nipples like they have never been worked before. And under me is the feeling of the same man’s cock growing and hardening as my hips danced and reeled in pleasure on him. I love what he is doing to me, but I don’t want it like this. I want to be in control.

  As Ash pulls me forward, his hands leading one of my nipples to his wet lips, I push away. My hands reach behind me to flatten his knees as he sinks back towards the ground, his hands resting under his head. I hear him growl with his chest tightening, “What are you going to do to me, Dani?”

  “Whatever the hell I want, Ash.” I whisper back, meaning every single word. My body slides down his legs, giving me a good look at the bulge in his jeans near his zipper line. I wash my hands down the side of his package while my thumbs hitch under where I believe his balls to be resting. He coos underneath me, a sound I would never expect a guy like Ash Cooper to make.

  Lowering myself between his legs, I do something I’ve never
done before, I place my lips around the top of his jeans, around the outline of his cock, and I begin to mouth his length from tip to base. It’s all a distraction, though. My hands work, fidgeting at his belt and buckle until they come loose for me. I gently yank them down over his hips and past his knees with my mouth going right back to his cock. My own pants fall by my side, too, in a quick, underhand movement I have practically perfected.

  Through his tight black boxer briefs, I can take it in -- the extra long length, the muscular girth, the slight curve for my pleasure only. As I pull down the elastic band of his underwear, my lips open and part, making way for his cock to enter my mouth. I stay at his tip at first, just wanting to taste the salty sweetness of him and the small dribble of juices already flowing from him. He’s smooth, so smooth. Even my toys at home would be jealous of the way his skin feels against my hands and mouth.

  My mouth opens even wider, taking more of him in. As my lips pulse up and down his cock, I can taste the cherry chapstick I’m wearing and feel the veins of him pop and beat against my lips. He’s something to devour, something to want more of. I make myself bolder than I have ever been before as I look down at his hips and slowly lower, lower, lower down towards his base. His length is so long that I can just barely touch his skin with my outstretched tongue before coming up for air.