Wreck You

by Abby Mccarthy

  Chapter 15

  I feel his callused rough fingers as they roam up my naked backside sliding over my stomach and palming my breast, the roughness creates its own unique sensation as his fingertips pad over my taut nipples. The steam from the shower clouds the air between us. He hasn’t shaved yet today and the stubble along his jaw scratches against my collarbone as his mouth sucks hard on my neck.

  “Your body is so beautifully perfect. I love your fierceness, your boldness, your wetness.”

  He brings his hand down between my legs sliding a finger through my folds.

  “Crap!” I shout as the staple slices through my finger bringing me out of my Corbin induced haze. I kick the side of the filing cabinet, cursing at my stupidity. It has been weeks since I learned the truth about Corbin. A part of me has hoped I would hear from him again, but a bigger part of me realizes that I am no good for him. I hold on to the memories of us together, replaying them like an 8mm film, slow and deliberate. Then, I curse myself for how I royally screwed up the best thing to ever happen to me.

  I've yet to leave the clubhouse. I know that it’s safe and I can go home, but I can’t do it yet. I work hard all day long. Draygon came by and told me he has never in twenty-five years seen the office or the shop look this clean. He eyed me suspiciously and I just shrugged my shoulders at him. After I've cleaned and exhausted anything else there is for me to do for the day, I sit at the bar in the clubhouse, get nice and shitfaced then stumble back to my old room.

  My dad has been coming and going. He is giving me my space, thinking I need to work through this. There is no working through this. Knowing that you broke your man’s trust along with his heart all because... why? I was too stubborn to listen to anything he had to say.

  I often wake up at night soaked in sweat, dreams of his pained expression plague me, waking me. How can one week with someone change you so much? I was carefree, happy Maura. Okay, well maybe not entirely happy, but now? Now, I'm a down right bitch, and I know this, but I just can’t seem to help myself. Because the stuff with Corbin pertains to the club, I can’t talk about it with Jenny. She calls wanting to hang out, but I have either not taken her calls or made excuses that I'm not feeling well or busy. Dawson tries to talk with me or get me to play pool, but I brush him off too. If a bar slut happens to look in my direction, unless she is pouring drinks, she better watch out. I don’t need any snarky slores shaking their ass anywhere near me. A few of the guys have gotten pissed at me for scaring their ass away, but fuck ‘em.

  I’m not showering much, not eating much. I really just don’t care enough to.

  I flick off the light switch and lock the door to the office. The guys have already left the shop for the day. I take a seat at the bar and Little Titty sets a Budweiser down in front of me. A few guys nod at me, but I just stare at nothing, tilting my head back as the crispness of the beer hits my throat.

  I’m in my own world, and don’t hear Dawson as he sets my helmet on the bar in front of me. “C’mon. You been in here for weeks now sulking. You need to ride.”

  “Leave me alone, Daws.”

  “No, you’re getting your ass on your bike and you’re riding, right the fuck now.”

  “My bike isn’t even here.” Dawson smirks at me.

  “It’s here.”

  “You let someone ride my girl?” My eyes get big and I get pissed. THAT’S MY GIRL.

  “Relax, I know you wouldn’t let just anyone ride her. I rode her and had Turk drop me.”

  “You rode her?” I can’t help but smirk at that. Dawson has always given me shit about my pink bike.

  He grabs my arm and the helmet off the bar, and starts to walk me out the door, knowing that my feet weren’t going to take me there on my own accord. He puts my arms through my leather and zips me up.

  “We’re going to ride. You follow my lead. Put your helmet on,” he says handing it to me. I'm on autopilot, doing as I’m told. I haven’t been on my girl in weeks, and if I'm honest, I miss her. Dawson must have shined her up before grabbing me from inside because despite the fact that dusk is near, I can see her tank’s flecks of pink glitter sparkle in the light from the clubhouse.

  I get on my bike and start her up. I pull out behind Dawson, and the rumble of both of our pipes sets off a car alarm as we pass through town.

  The wind whips all around me and there is a slight chill to the air. I embrace it. We drive around the lake, past the cottages, and into the woods. The road winds and my bike tilts close to the ground as we angle around the turns. As we ride, my mind is clear. For the first time, I’m free of my guilt. I'm in the present, feeling the rumble between my legs and the vibration on my hands as I grip the handlebars. Riding beats Jack and Wild Turkey’s asses anyday! It’s the only time in my life when I feel completely free. Just me, my pipes, and the road. Oh, and I guess Dawson.

  I follow him to a spot that we’ve ridden to dozens of times. It’s an overgrown area that once was used as an overlook for the lake, until they cleared some trees and paved a lot up the road from here. This spot is pretty much abandoned except for the few who remember it.

  Being overcast today has caused it to be darker than normal, usually we get a certain amount of moonlight here. I shut off my bike and Dawson leaves his on so that the light from his bike illuminates where we need to go. By the overlook, there are a few large boulders that years back we angled planks of wood onto, creating an uncomfortable seat. We got the wood jammed in here good, and our makeshift bench has survived plenty of storms.

  Dawson digs underneath the bench for a lamp and kerosene fluid that we had hidden. He shakes the bottle. It’s old, but he gets it open and pours it into the old lantern. He lights it, then walks over and shuts off his bike.

  I stare off into the darkness. There are hardly any stars tonight. I can see the darkness of the lake below, and in the distance, I see my cottage. My mind immediately flashes to images of Corbin. I think of him and me in the lake. Damn, that was cold. He was so careful with me. Maybe he could sense that my boldness was a front and I really was an inexperienced woman. Maybe that’s why he treated me with such care. Thoughts of Corbin slice my heart open again, and any calmness that was eased by the ride is replaced by what feels like razor blades grinding over a wound. I’m not sure how much time passes as I sit looking at the lake. Dawson sits beside me, his hand is around my waist and his grip into my hip brings me out of my thoughts.

  His grip is tight as he begins to talk, “You saw what else was out there, outside of this club. I ain't happy about another man having you. It makes me fucking livid. Then to see you come back and be half the fucking woman that you were pisses me off even more. You might be sad, but I'm downright fucking pissed. I want to hunt that motherfucker down and kill him. Only thing that’s kept me here is my need to make sure that you’re all right.”

  My breath hitches with that statement, Corbin doesn’t deserve this, not any of it. I know that Corbin is strong, but my brothers are lethal. Where Corbin’s morals are a strength I'm attracted too, it’s a weakness, as well. We have our own code in the club, it’s one that is far more dangerous.

  Mickeyism #48

  The “I don’t give a fuck” attitude is more dangerous than any gun. A fearless man is an unpredictable one.

  “He didn’t do anything wrong, Daws. You’re not going after him.”

  “First, I will decide if and when that motherfucker dies. I know you think ‘cause he is bigger than me, that he might have a chance, but I’m not beyond blowing up his fucking car when he ain't looking, so don’t question me. Second, I think you got that shit with outsiders out of your system or you’d still be with him.”

  He kneels on the ground in front of me angling his body right between my knees and grabs my chin between his forefinger and thumb bringing my eyes right in front of his. He was right when he said I was half of who I was. I feel like it doesn’t matter anymore, nothing does.

  “I’m sick of being pissed off, Baby Girl, and I’m
not waiting anymore for you to get your shit together. I’m not letting another man stick his dick in you. That shit is over with. I’m done. I’m taking this. You and me are supposed to have been our whole lives. Stop fighting me on it ‘cause it’s fucking happening. We’re inevitable.”

  He pushes his lips against my mouth violently forcing his tongue against my own. The kiss is a stolen kiss, not meant for my lips to give, but taken nonetheless.

  He pulls away, “Dammit, Maura! Let go. Let. Me. In.”

  I'm done fighting. I’m done caring. If he wants me, maybe I should just give in. What does it really matter? He presses his lips to mine again, and this time instead of fighting, I part my lips. His tongue feels foreign in my mouth, like an invader that doesn’t belong. I think he takes me opening my mouth as a sign that I'm into this. He grabs a fist full of my hair and tilts my head back, exposing my neck. His mouth moves away from mine and my mouth is relieved.

  His other hand comes up and brushes over my breast, making my nipple hard, betraying me. His dark hair is pulled back into a small ponytail and I can see his pulse throbbing in his neck. I breathe him in. It’s the familiar scent of a man and his bike. I smell Dawson, but I also smell exhaust and oil and a hint of gasoline. It’s a comforting smell that relaxes me.

  I think to myself, as I close my eyes, that maybe just once, I can pretend. As unfair as it is to Dawson, pretending is exactly what I do. I close my eyes and imagine Corbin’s lips brushing over my shoulder. His hands peeling my shirt over my head. I lean into the kisses, placing a hand on his neck and one on his thigh. I let out a slight whimper as he pulls my taut nipple into his mouth sucking the pink flesh. His teeth latch onto my nipple and his tongue flicks rapidly. I imagine Corbin’s light blues staring at me telling me how fucking perfect my nipples are, as his voice rings through my mind. I spread my legs further apart allowing him to get closer to me. A hand rubs against my jeans giving my pussy the friction she needs.

  My eyes remain closed. Corbin unzips my jeans, brushing his fingers over the exterior of my black lace panties. He likes the black ones, so I bought more just for him. I raise my hips encouraging the action and let out another moan. I lift my bottom off of the bench as my jeans are pulled from my hips and over my ass. I move the heel of my boot against the ground angling my feet free. My eyes remain closed and I hear the leather sliding against the belt buckle. I picture Corbin in his uniform, my hands slipping the belt off and unzipping his pants. My hand wraps around his silky skin. Fingers enter my pussy. I clench my eyes tightly together as my hand roams up and down his thick shaft. My hair is pulled, kisses trail and my earlobe is being sucked on. I’m getting lost in the ecstasy. The finger swirling in my pussy leaves and my hand moves away from his cock. I hear the tearing open of a foil package. I feel his tip brush against my slick folds, pressing into my opening. He pushes into me and I inhale sharply. His girth is more than I am used to.

  “So fucking tight, Baby Girl. I love the way your pussy feels wrapped around my cock.” Those words and that voice do not match the sound in my head. My eyes snap open, bringing me back to reality. The eyes staring into mine are not the blues from my imagination, but are dark and dilated. Dawson is staring at me with a heated gaze. What am I doing? This man inside of me loves me. He pushes into me all the way and out again. Where Corbin was long and just right, Dawson is wide and stretches me in ways I'm not used to. It’s foreign and feels wrong. Everything about this feels wrong. I'm using my best friend and betraying my heart. Dawson doesn't deserve this. He deserves a woman who can love him back and want his touch. I look into Dawson’s eyes trying to give back what he is giving. A tear escapes my eye. Hold it together Maura. Breathe in. Breathe out. I’m trying to cope with this situation and get through it. I squeeze my eyes shut again, hoping that this will be over. Dawson stills inside of me.

  “What the fuck, Maura? Your pussy is drier than the Sahara desert.”

  “I’m fine,” I lie. He pushes in again and out again.

  “You’re lying. Ahh fuck, is that a tear?” He pulls away from me whips off his condom into a nearby bush. He zips his pants in a hurried motion. He is pissed. I'm sitting on the bench with one pant leg still around an ankle, and my body and soul are out there in the open completely exposed.

  “Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.”

  I watch as Dawson rips at his hair. I’m in shock of the utter horror of what I have just done. He is pacing back and forth cursing over and over. He kicks his boot into the the dirt and then pauses in front of me, grabbing the light and slamming it to the ground in front of us. Tears no longer creep out of my eyes, but stream down in huge gushes. I make no noise.

  I silently watch as I destroy yet another man I love. I may not love Dawson the same as Corbin, but I love him. Further and further down the rabbit hole, I fall. No wonder all these years I've kept intimacy at bay. Maybe I’m not meant to have it. Looking back, maybe there would’ve been a way if I had really wanted to be with someone. I could’ve gone to Draygon and asked him to get the boys to back off, but I didn’t. Maybe I knew, somewhere deep down, that I was too messed up to love, because look at what I’ve done to two men in such a short time.

  Dawson throws my shirt at my face bringing me out of my thoughts.

  “Get dressed,” he orders.

  Too disgusted with myself to even make eye contact, I pull my shirt on, my pant legs up and slide my feet into my boots.

  “What changed, Maura?”

  “What do you mean?” I play dumb, not wanting to let on where my mind went. I keep my gaze from his, not daring to see the look in his eyes.

  “I mean, was I imagining it? You were into it. You were grabbing my dick for Christ’s sake. I felt that tight little pussy of yours getting wet all over my hand. Then…” I see a light bulb go off in his eyes.

  “Unfuckingbelievable.” He grabs me by the back of my hair, fisting it tightly, he brings my gaze level to his so that I am forced to look into his eyes. “You opened your eyes.”

  He shoves me away from him. In a cold and callous tone that I've only heard him use on his enemies he says, “I’m done. You wanted to make a point that it’s not me. Fine. You made it. I’m over it. I’m done. Don’t come to me if you need anything. I’m not saving you anymore. You’re not worth it.” I lower my head in defeat knowing everything he is saying is true. I’m not worth it. I did this.

  The rumble of his pipes fades, becoming quieter and quieter. As the distance widens, so do the fissures that have formed in my heart. My tears stop. I stare out at the lake below looking at its vast blackness. How did my life become so out of control? I spot my cottage in the distance again. It’s dark, but I know right where it is and can make out the shape of it. I know what I need to do.

  Mickey

  Chapter 16

  Whack!

  “Up and out sweet bean!” I smack the arse of the red head who was a fecking hellion in the sack last night. She mumbles about it being early, but she needs to leave before Maura gets into work. Maura didn’t stay in our room last night, not that I did either. I never bring women where my Baby Girl lays her head. I stayed in a communal room down the hall that brothers can use when we want some privacy. Sure, sometimes a brother stays here when he doesn’t want to go home to his ‘ole lady because he is shagging but I called dibs on it before the sheets got filthy. I don’t particularly like when Maura sees me with a woman either. A real man knows when to flaunt his pussy and when to keep it under wraps, and this one is not a flaunter. If I’m honest, if the woman under me is worthy of this room then she is an up and outta here kinda gal.

  This fecking lass isn’t moving fast enough. I smack her arse again this time harder. Her arse jiggles as my hand connects, my hand print is clearly visible.

  “What the fuck, Mickey?” She gets up and starts to throw on her shirt. There. That’s better. She should have listened the first time.

  “Now now, I know ye don’t mind a good spankin’. Time for ye to go.” She is still dressing
as I'm throwing on my boots and lighting a fag.

  I head to the kitchen to start a pot of coffee except when I get there, I find that it’s already brewing. That’s strange. Most of these bloody bullheads aren’t up before noon. I walk out to the bar area and Dawson’s eyes connect with mine, then quickly look away.

  That smarmy feck. I know he wants my Maura, but she is too good for his arse. He looks like shite. I'm about to question him on what he is doing up. My phone rings, stopping me.

  “Talk,” I answer.

  It’s Julie, a pretty little thing, that works at the convenience store right before you head out of town.

  “Hey Mickey, it’s Julie from Quick Stop. I wanted to let you know that those guys you wanted me to look out for, you know the ones with the tattoos? Well, they came through here about twenty minutes ago. I would have called sooner, but my boss was on my ass.”

  “Headin’ in or out?”

  “I had a line and I didn’t see their car. I’m sorry. Morning coffee rush was crazy.”

  “Aye.” I hang up the call. The rest of my brothers could learn a thing or two about how to feck the ladies. If they feck ‘em right, they can have ears all over town.

  I dial Maura and it goes straight to voicemail. She is always forgetting to charge her phone, but something makes me nervous. Before I bring this to my brothers, I need to make sure my girl is all right. It’s raining this morning, so I grab a set of keys for one of our tow trucks and make my way out to the lake.