Crush

by J. C. Emery

  I want to say no, that I’m horrified by what’s going on here. But I’m not. I’m fascinated.

  “Yes,” I say breathily.

  He presses against my backside in a move that both shocks and excites me. My hands shake at my sides, and the empty bottle in my hands falls to the floor. The clink catches Daniel’s attention, but his only move is to kick the bottle under a nearby chair. As he lifts his leg, his hard body presses into the bottom of my butt. It’s not his built thighs that catch my attention, nor is it his muscular lower legs. It’s his dick that surprises me. I don’t even like Daniel half as much as I like Jeremy—which is a lot—but he doesn’t scare me the way Jeremy does. Maybe it’s the beer or the casual nature of it. Maybe it’s the place we’re in or the fact that I’m not looking at him. I count my blessings that we’re at the wrong angle to see anything in that stupid mirror. It just makes everything so visible in here. I can see people and things I wish I couldn’t. So instead of focusing on all the bullshit around me, I let myself drift into this and enjoy what Daniel might have to offer.

  Right now I’d be okay with seeing where this goes because I don’t worry what he’s going to think of me tomorrow or if my dad is going to approve of us. Not sex exactly, but a little fooling around and maybe third base. There won’t be an us, and I’m not pairing my first name with his last in my head, getting attached to a future that is sure to fail because he’s Forsaken and relationships don’t start like this. Well, unless you’re Nic and Duke, but those two are screwed up and do everything backward anyway.

  “I’ll go slow. I’m going to make you feel good, baby,” Daniel says. His voice sounds slick, like he’s selling me a car or forcing me to listen to his pyramid scheme. At some point, I thought he sounded charming. But not now. Now he’s not the guy who flirts with me and pushes my buttons. No, he’s the man who wants to take my virginity. It’s not something I’m ready to give up, and that’s frustrating the hell out of me because I feel like a damn child.

  His hands slide up and down my sides, up to just beneath my breasts where he drags a finger along the lower line of my bra, then back down to the top of my jean shorts. His warm breath covers my neck as his lips softly trail from my collarbone up to my jaw. I let my eyes close and just enjoy the moment. They briefly flutter open long enough to see Tracie and Diesel pass by. Diesel’s gaze catches mine just before my eyes close. His angry stare bounces off my dueling desires—to let loose and to be smart—and I find myself suddenly insecure. Diesel’s basically been my babysitter the last few months. He’s either taken me to school or has let me follow him in my Bug, but he screwed my best friend, so I’m not sure he can really serve as some kind of moral compass.

  Soon the image of his disapproving glare fades from memory, and it’s just me with Daniel’s lips on my neck, his hands traveling the curves of my body. His hands slip under the legs of my shorts a few inches before circling most of my thigh and then dragging down a little lower on my leg. He’s careful not to touch me any place too private, which helps keep this being okay in such a public place.

  “Happy birthday, big boy!” Chel’s voice rings loud in my ears. My eyes snap open and immediately search my surroundings before landing on her barely clothed frame. Her dyed red hair is down in waves, and her makeup is heavy, which I assume is typical on a night like tonight. She’s slowly swinging her body in sultry dance moves with her eyes focused on something in front of her.

  The crowd slowly parts as Fish brings a folding chair through the throngs of people. He sets it down in the center of the room, and it’s only then that I see Jeremy. The back of his cut stares me down, judging me for letting Daniel touch me in ways I wouldn’t let him. I want Jeremy to turn around and see me, to stop Daniel, and to tell me how sorry he is for pushing me when I wasn’t ready. I want his arms around me. I want his lips on mine, marking me, claiming me as his. I want him to turn to his right and to see me in the mirror. Just a few degrees and he’d know I was behind him.

  But he doesn’t turn around. His shoulders roll as he claps his hands together and shouts, “Hell yes, baby!”

  Not even Jeremy’s booming voice breaks Daniel’s concentration. His mouth moves up to my ear, where he sucks gently on my pliant flesh. One of his hands gently rubs my right breast as he bucks his hips into my ass. I give him a small moan that I’m unable to contain. It only serves to encourage and hasten his movements. His hand roughly pinches and twists my breast as he moans into my neck. I wince, but not at the pain. It hurts, sure. But it’s Jeremy being pushed into the folding chair and his pulling Chel into his lap that causes the flash of pain in my chest. He doesn’t care about me.

  I’m an idiot.

  Chel strips her tank top off and then her bra. She presses her breasts together and shoves them in his face. Greedily, he grabs hold of them and sucks them into his mouth.

  “Enough of that,” Duke says as he moves to Chel and taps her shoulder. She nods and taps Jeremy’s nose so he lets go. “You can finish her off later if you want. Right now I got something to say.”

  Duke commands the attention of the room with ease. Even the man next to Bear removes his hand from between the naked woman’s legs and looks to Duke. Only Daniel ignores him.

  “Butch Whelan is a hell of a man and an even better brother,” Duke says. Jeremy jumps up from his chair and gives Duke a hug, obviously knowing something I don’t. From the angle he’s standing, I can see the blinding grin on his face through the mirror. His eyes sparkle that beautiful dark blue with excitement.

  “What the fuck, prospect?” Ryan shouts from someplace I can’t see.

  “Suck his dick, prospect!” my dad shouts. My dad. My freaking father is in here. I knew he was in the clubhouse, but I didn’t expect for him to be in here. But he is. I don’t know why I’m surprised. This is some kind of birthday deal for Jeremy.

  My eyes travel around the room to see that they’re all here. Every single member of my dad’s club is here. Even Ian is by the door, watching from the back of the room. I guess because it’s a club party, and not only a prospect’s birthday but a member’s son’s birthday as well, that they kind of have to be here. If they’re all here, that means all their girlfriends and wives are here, too. Either that or they’re in the chapel. Party or no, Forsaken won’t leave their women totally unprotected at a time like this.

  My eyes nearly bug out of my head when I see Ruby and Holly sandwiched between Uncle Jim and Dad. The two women are chatting about something and barely paying attention to what’s going on around them. I have no clue how they can just pretend all this isn’t happening. I guess my theory about Aunt Ruby babysitting all the kids is bullshit.

  “You got it?” Jeremy shouts excitedly. Duke confirms, and they do that manly hug thing where they practically chest bump and slap each other’s backs. When they break apart, Jeremy turns to the room and throws his arms in the air in victory. I tilt my head so I’m better hidden behind a couple in front of me. There’s a large enough crowd between us, but I don’t need him seeing me right this second.

  “Butch gave me his blessing,” Duke shouts with a smile on his face. Oh, Butch’s blessing. That makes sense now. It’s a tradition the brothers take incredibly seriously. Nobody gives a shit if the chick is new, but if she’s a member’s kid, you ask for your brother’s blessing. Period. Not asking is a big deal. Duke could marry Nic, and they already have a kid on the way, but wanting to officially make her his old lady without asking her father first is bad news. A smile takes over my face. I don’t remember much about Butch, just that he always gave me gum even after Dad said I wasn’t responsible enough for it anymore. I’d always get it in my hair, or his hair, or in the couch. But Butch would always say that nobody gets to decide what you’re responsible enough to handle but you, and then he’d sneak me a piece. Despite how weird all of this is, I wish Butch could be here to see his son. He’d be proud of Jeremy. They all are.

  I am.

  Duke shoves Jeremy back in the chair
and clears his throat. “Prospects don’t normally get this kind of shit. Because you haven’t earned it. But this fucking prick,” he says and points to Jeremy, “is family. The only thing his dad asked in return for his daughter is that I make sure this asshole gets a pleasure Butch has been denied for too damn long.”

  I can’t stop the smile that overtakes my face when Duke shoots Jeremy a huge smile and then winks at Chel. Forsaken really is a family. I crane my neck, ignoring Daniel’s irritated grunt to get a better view of what’s going on. Chel takes the attention away from Duke when she lifts one of her legs to expose the large slit in the crotch of her G-string and places her heel-clad foot on Jeremy’s leg. She purses her lips, her attention wholly on him.

  The smile slides off my face, and I’m back to feeling like total shit. It’s not a punch to my gut this time. It’s not a twisting of my heart. It’s more like the breath has been sucked right out of me and has been replaced by acid. The only thing keeping me from running out in this moment is Daniel, who is still bucking at my ass and trailing soft kisses up and down my neck. He’s moved to the other side now and has slipped my bra strap off my shoulder as he peppers every inch of my flesh he can find.

  Chel drags her index finger along Jeremy’s jaw and smirks. Then she drops down so quickly that I barely follow her movements. Her fingers work at his jeans, and before I can convince myself that she’s not about to do what I think she is, her head disappears and then bobs right back up. Jeremy’s neck looks like it turns to Jell-O as it flops backward. He moans loudly, his mouth trying to say something. It seems like he can’t form a coherent thought much less vocalize it. Duke’s laughter brings me back to the room. This is happening in front of so many people. Why? Why would anyone do this?

  I focus in on Duke, whose laughter dwindles to nothing. Ruby’s voice can’t be heard across the room, but her face has morphed into a scowl. She points at Jeremy, shakes her head, and then points at Duke’s chest. By the time she turns around, I notice that Holly and Alex are already near the door. Dad lumbers after Holly and does his best to ignore Ruby as she walks beside him, still obviously displeased with Duke’s “gift” to Jeremy. Good. I’m glad somebody is as disgusted by this as I am. Uncle Jim is shaking his head and barking something at Duke. Then he leaves the room, hot on his wife’s tail. Duke’s just lucky Nic isn’t in here, or they’d end up in an epic fight. She’s going to find out eventually, and the best I can hope is that I’m far away when she does.

  A couple moves away and crosses the room to grab a few beers. In their absence, I have a clear shot of Jeremy and Chel. Her hands link together around his shaft, effectively blocking the crowd’s view of his dick.

  I guess there are some things even Dad and Uncle Jim aren’t cool with here. I’m not surprised that Holly and Aunt Ruby take issue with it, though. The problem certainly isn’t nudity, nor is it sex that has set them off. But Jeremy is practically a baby to them. So even though he has his cut, seeing him get his dick sucked in the middle of a crowded room.

  My fingers tingle, and soon enough, so do my arms and legs. A cramp starts in my stomach that travels up to my chest and forms a lump in my throat. It’s not sorrow. It’s not tears. I clamp my hand over my mouth and hunch forward. Daniel’s hands are on me in an instant, helping me stand upright. Maybe I drank my beer too fast, or maybe the sight of the boy I’ve convinced myself could be mine getting his dick sucked in a room of strangers is just too much to take.

  Daniel whispers, “Oh shit,” into my ear. He disappears for just a moment before he’s back with a plastic red cup. It’s full of something, but he dumps it out on the floor and places it below my chin just in time for me to relieve my stomach. I gag over the cup for a moment, just frozen in place and terrified that Jeremy is going to turn around. He can’t know I’m here, much less that I’m freaking yakking because he’s such a stupid boy and Chel is a worthless whore.

  I never knew why Elle had a problem with Chel.

  Now I do.

  Whore.

  Idiot.

  I hate them both.

  CHAPTER 12

  December

  16 months to Mancuso’s downfall

  Daniel leads me out of the room and into the hallway, where I finally stop gagging over the cup. Pushing the foul thing away, I turn toward the brick wall and press my face against it. Daniel awkwardly holds the cup before gently placing it on the floor beside me. Somebody is going to run into it, but I can’t bring myself to pick it up and move it to save them the trouble. Maybe Chel can clean it up.

  Whore.

  My foot slides to the side and accidentally tips the cup over.

  Stupid cocksucking slut.

  “You okay?” Daniel asks.

  “Perfect,” I mumble into the brick. Tears prick at my eyes, and frustration overtakes me. I pull my head back just a few inches and then let it fall forward against the brick. It takes Daniel one more head slam into the wall before he realizes what I’m doing, and he pulls me back, spins me around, and forces me to look at him.

  “What the fuck is your problem?” he snaps. His attention is on my forehead as his fingers slide over the sensitive skin.

  “No, what the fuck is your problem?” I snap back. “You guys think shit like that is funny? It’s cool to watch a guy get his dick sucked? Really?”

  “This is about that fucking prospect,” he says and lets go of me so quickly that I stumble back to the brick wall. The back of my head throbs with the impact, but it’s nothing compared to the intensity of my heart beating in my chest. I say nothing in response because there’s nothing I can say. A tear falls down my cheek as I try to regroup.

  “Your head hurt?” he says, the frustration obvious in his tone. His blue eyes fall to my brown ones as he cups my chin in his hands. I shrug my shoulders and refuse to verbalize my pain. “That guy is a fucking asshole whether he knew he was going to get blown in that room or not. He’s a child. I don’t give a shit that you’re the same age. You’re too good for him, too mature for him. Too beautiful and too everything for him.”

  He reaches out and takes my hand, leading me down the hallway to the bathroom. He yells at the people inside and gives them a minute before clearing them out. Once the bathroom is empty, he opens the door and I step inside. Maybe I misjudged him and he’s not really as much of a perverted jerk as I assumed a few weeks ago. Maybe Daniel and I could be more than friends and I should put more effort into him.

  Inside the bathroom, I clean up as best I can. I rinse my mouth out several times until I realize that my breath isn’t going to get any better and, without an aid, I’m still going to be tasting my own vomit.

  When I leave the bathroom, Daniel is nowhere to be found. My phone chimes in my pocket. I pull it out just enough to see he’s sent me a text.

  HAD TO GO. SORRY.

  Being alone here—again—puts me on edge. I stare down the hallway to find it’s completely empty save for me. With Dad and Uncle Jim already dealing with Aunt Ruby and Holly being on the warpath, it’s probably a bad idea for me to be so out in the open. There’s no telling what kind of hell I’ll have to live through if Dad knows I saw what happened in there. With that whore.

  I eye Ian’s door at the end of the hall, bouncing from one foot to the other before I blow out a heady breath and decide that he’s my best bet to get out of here. I haven’t seen Tracie since she disappeared into the crowd with Diesel, and since we took her car, I’m kind of stuck. I would have opted to take my Bug except that if Grandma did happen to wake up, she would freak if she saw my car gone. So Ian it is.

  My feet carry me to the doorway quickly. I curl my hand into a loose fist and knock on the heavy wooden door and wait. And wait. When the door swings open, a bleached blonde stands before me. She raises her eyebrows and looks me up and down in clear disdain.

  “You’re not his type,” she says with narrowed eyes. Her eyes are rimmed with purple bags, and they’re glassy and red. She looks drunk. Or high. Maybe both. I don
’t really know. Dad always kind of looks drunk and high, so there’s no telling.

  I have so freaking had it with whores in this place. I just want to go home. Now.

  “Ian,” I shout as loud as I can without screaming.

  “Shit,” he says in a ragged voice that’s followed by a grunt.

  My eyes fall shut as I bow my head. There’s nothing but sex and drugs everywhere, and I want none of it anymore. I don’t want to be someone’s old lady. I don’t want to help the Lost Girls during special occasions. None of it.

  A minute later and Ian steps behind the chick in the doorway. His brows crinkle, and his lips form a flat line. He says, “We’re done here,” and reaches into the pocket of his jeans. His bare chest stares at me, full of scars that are laced with tattoos that depict bloody scenes of revenge and torture. He produces a few hundred-dollar bills and hands them to the skanky blonde in front of him.

  “Don’t fuck it up,” he says. She pushes past me, shoving me into the doorframe, and then disappears from view. With his attention back on me, he says, “You’re going home.”

  I nod, wanting to tell him what I saw and what happened with Daniel. For some reason I even want to tell him I knocked over that red cup in hopes that Chel would have to clean it up.

  With her fucking tongue.

  But I don’t. Because Ian isn’t the kind of guy who seems like he shares his feelings or bitches about petty stuff. His scars practically jump from his flesh and smack me across the face. Some of them are muted by the surrounding tattoos, while others seem to be accented by the ink surrounding them.

  He slides back into the room for a moment and grabs a shirt and his cut. Another woman slinks out of the room. She doesn’t meet my eyes, and she clings to a large piece of fabric that is larger than a robe but smaller than a sheet, I think. Ian disregards her as he pulls the shirt over his head and then slides the cut on. I back up and give him room to lead me out of this horrible, disgusting place.