by Jenika Snow
He leaned down and kissed her on the head. “This is where you belong, Claire.”
She nodded.
“What about that job you were working at?”
“It was a temp position, so me not showing up isn’t a big deal, at least not to me. I have bigger things to worry about anyway than cleaning some old pervert’s office.”
Mayhem sat up straight. “Someone else fucking with you?” he said with all the darkness and violence he had inside of him. The thing with Mayhem, with all of these bikers, was that they took it very seriously when someone messed with what was close to them.
She stared at her brother, seeing the violence right at the surface, knowing the fact he’d kill for her to make sure she was protected. “No, just some crusty old man that is old enough to be my grandpa who thinks sexual innuendos are cute.” The silence stretched for a second, and finally he spoke again.
“You know I have to go after him.” He didn’t phrase it like a question.
“I know.” She didn’t feel any sympathy about Steven getting what he deserved. Maybe she should, but the asshole had laid his hands on her, threatened her, and she’d come to the club because she’d known they could help. No way could Claire overpower Steven. She might have gotten in a good hit, but he hadn’t been expecting it. He was prepared now, if he’d survived the blow. But deep down she knew he had, because his dark words, his threatening promise that had been shouted before she ran out the front door still played in her mind.
“And you don’t care what we do to him, how we make this right?”
She stared at the scarred door to the bathroom, and the off-white tile on the shower. Maybe it was the fact she hadn’t been dating Steven long, or maybe it was the fact she’d grown up about the MC and her empathy was gone. Or maybe she just believed in an eye for an eye, and Steven had this coming. But she shook her head, thinking she was emotionless in what happened to that prick.
“If I was strong enough to take him down myself I would.” She looked at Mayhem, at her brother that had always been there for her. “I wish sometimes I could be the one to clean up your mess.”
He wrapped his arm around her shoulder and pulled her in for a side hug. “What good am I if I can’t protect you?”
She smiled even though he couldn’t see it. As they sat there, the silence comforting, she thought about Big. Damn him and the fact he’d never left her mind. Of course she’d told Steven there was nothing between them. It hadn’t been a lie, but what she hadn’t admitted, not even to herself most of the time, was that she loved Big, and had this entire time.
“You have to talk to him.”
She nodded, knowing he was referring to Big, but feeling stubborn over the fact.
“He wants to talk, Claire, I know he does. But he’s stubborn, just like you.”
That had her clenching her teeth. He wants to talk now, but hadn’t when I left.
“What happened between you two is just that, but you’re my sister, and he’s like family. I know you guys care for each other, even all this time later.”
“I don’t want to talk about that right now, Mayhem.”
He nodded and gave one of his characteristic grunts. “Come and party with the club for a little while, take your mind off things.” Mayhem stood and held his hand out to her. She contemplated just staying in the room and getting some much needed sleep, but drinking and visiting with the guys she hadn’t seen in forever sounded much better.
She took her brother’s hand, let him help her up, and let go of him to smooth her palms over her jeans. He opened the door for her, and once she was out of the room both of them headed down the hallway and toward where the music, loud voices, and obvious good times were.
Chapter Four
“Get the fuck off of me,” Big said and pushed away the drunken club bitch that was trying to grab his cock. Big was finishing off his beer. He wanted another one because since the meeting with Mayhem and the few days Claire had been here all Big had been able to think about was her.
God, he fucking loved her still, and as much as he wanted to pretend that he could turn his back on how he felt and what he wanted from her, the truth was he couldn’t stop thinking about her, no matter how hard he tried, how much he told himself it was the best idea for both of them. She had been the one to walk away two years ago, so he shouldn’t feel like he’d been the one to do something wrong, but the fact remained it had been his fault she left.
You didn’t go after her. You let her walk away, let her fuck some other guy. If you’d been a man and told her how you felt she would be here with you, by your side, and not trying to avoid you like the fucking plague.
“Line, man?” Dealer asked, shoving a rolled up dollar bill and mirror covered with powder white lines of coke toward Big. But he was too busy watching Claire.
Big leaned back against the wall, the shadows in the corner hiding him slightly, but giving him a prime shot of her. She wore tight jeans, holes in the back, right by the ass. God, her ass was full and round, her hips flaring out and giving him a prime shot of the fact she was all curves. The sweet-butts at the club were thinner, with bones protruding. But Claire had it going on, with thick thighs and a full belly that was shown whenever she’d lift her arms.
He just had to think about her and she made him hard, made him want to just fuck her in front of everyone. He didn’t give a shit who saw him take her, because then they’d know she was his. Hell, they’d been exhibitionists when they’d been deep in each other, all about the other. It had been hot as hell doing it in the hallway, right where anyone could see. And being voyeurs with her, watching as someone fucked turned them both on so much.
“Come on, Big. Let me see what everyone talks about.” The sweet-butt he’d shoved off him earlier came at him again, her hands trying to grab for his cock. She was drunk, that was clear, but trashed or not when Big said, “fuck off” he meant it.
“You dumb or something, or just too drunk to know to back off when a biker says get lost.” He didn’t phrase it like a question. He pushed her off again with enough force she stumbled back and landed in Dealer’s lap. The Patch grinned and held onto her. Dealer pulled her shirt down, exposed her fake tits, and started licking at them. Big turned his focus away from that scene and looked at Claire again.
Once the party died down, if it even did knowing how the guys liked to get down with booze, alcohol, and pussy, Big was going to pull Claire aside and talk to her. No way was he going to fuck this up again. This was his second chance. He’d take down that little bastard that hurt her, and then he’d tell Claire she was his and wouldn’t be running again.
This was where she belonged. She was meant to be his and his alone.
****
The scene before Claire wasn’t a surprising one. In fact she’d partied just as hard as any of these guys back in the day. What she hated seeing was one of the sweet-butts touching Big’s chest. But what she loathed even more was that she allowed herself to care. A smile curved her lips on its own when he pushed the club pussy away, but she quickly wiped the grin and any pleasure from her, because she needed to focus on forgetting the mess she’d gotten herself into and involved the club with. She and Big hadn’t even spoken in the two days since she’d been here, and she didn’t know how that first encounter could go.
There was a woman behind the bar next to Ash serving drinks, but she didn’t look like a sweet-butt with her tits and ass hanging out, and she wasn’t one Claire had seen before. She was good with the glasses and bottle throw, twirling it in her hand and pouring the drinks efficiently and with style. Ash grinned at the woman, clearly having a good time with it all.
“Who’s that?” Claire asked Mayhem. Her brother had his back to Claire, speaking with Dirty, but he looked over his shoulder at Claire, and then toward the bar.
“What?”
Claire tipped her chin toward the bar. “That? Who’s that?” Just then someone changed the classic rock to Britney Spears. A bunch of the guys i
n the club started groaning in disappointment and cursing.
“Who was the fucker that changed it to this shit?” Shorty hollered out.
The woman grinned widely, hopped up on the bar, and surprising the hell out of Claire started dancing for everyone. She wore these tan leather pants, tight enough they looked like a second skin. Her shoulder length platinum blonde hair had these wild red tips at the ends, and Claire could see the glint of a navel ring. Not only that it seemed this woman had her nose, eyebrow, and her ears pierced.
Wonder what else she has holes through that isn’t on display.
“That’s Butters,” Mayhem said, looking at the woman for a second, and then turned back around and faced Dirty to finish his conversation. It was like watching a scene from Coyote Ugly, and Claire couldn’t look away, was almost transfixed by it.
She walked toward the bar, about to get drunk, because that sounded better than thinking about Big, about everything going on, and then of course the club whore grinding on Big.
When Claire was up at the bar she gestured for Ash. It took a moment because he was busy looking at Butters’ ass, but he finally grabbed her a beer without her telling him what she wanted. It wouldn’t have mattered what she drank at the moment, because she didn’t plan on stopping until her face hit the mattress and she blacked out.
That sounded like a smart plan.
“She’s somethin’, huh?” Ash said, his focus still on Butters, who was now bending low and shaking her ass to the guys.
“You guys allow this kind of music in the clubhouse?” Claire teased, knowing that the bikers were all hard, classic rock, and even liked the hardcore shit like Marilyn Manson, Nine Inch Nails, and Nirvana.
“When Butters is dancing, we allow anything.”
She snorted and looked at Ash. He was still staring at Butters, and Claire had to admit the woman knew how to move, how to get the guys worked up. The members at the bar weren’t even paying attention to the sweet-butts all around them, and by the scowls from the women it was clear that pissed them off.
“She a new sweet-butt?” Claire asked over the loud music, Britney Spears screaming above her about being a womanizer.
Ash shook his head, stared at Butters for a second, and then looked at Claire. “Nah. Your brother brought her here, actually. He thought we needed help tending to the bar, thinking it would help. Butters is the kind of woman that wouldn’t give our biker asses the time of day,” Ash said with this kind of longing in his voice.
No, not longing, but arousal.
“Help?” Claire asked.
Ash shrugged. “I don’t know why your brother does some of the things he does. But I’m not complaining that he brought her here, and none of the other guys care either. Hell, the only ones that are pissed at the sweet-butts.” Ash started chuckling and pointed to the beer that was now half empty in front of her. “You want another, or something stronger?”
Damn, she hadn’t even realized she’d sucked it down. “Just keep the beers coming.”
Ash nodded. “You got it.” He grabbed a beer, popped the top, and leaned his forearms on the bar, handing the bottle to her. “It’s good to see you again, Claire.”
She saw him flicker his gaze to the healing bruise on her face, but his words and smile were genuine. “I’m glad to be here, too. Just wish it were because of different circumstances.”
The smile faded from Ash’s face. “You’re safe here,” he said in a hard, intense voice.
“I know. I just wish I could have handled this without putting you guys in danger.”
That had Ash busting out laughing, which in turn had her smiling. “Girl, you keep making jokes like that about putting the club in danger because of some little asshole, and you’ll have me breaking a rib.” He grinned wider. “I’ll keep the alcohol flowing, and you just relax and have a good time.”
It sounded like a plan to her, a damn good plan.
Chapter Five
She was drunk, so drunk the room spun, her body felt light, like she was floating, and she didn’t have a care in the word.
“One more, Ash,” Claire held up one finger and slurred out the words. She closed one eye, focusing on Ash, since that seemed to be the only way the room didn’t spin and he was one person instead of three. She was draped over the bar, having gone from beer to shots. But she was safe here, could get so blitzed she had to be carried to her room, and nothing bad would happen to her.
“Baby girl, as much as I love you and would be glad to have the shots flowing your way, I think you’ve tapped out.”
She shook her head, but then cupped her forehead as the pounding behind her eyes began. Claire groaned. “I’m fine.”
“Sure, darling.”
A glass slid in front of her, the scraping of it along the countertop seeming loud all of a sudden. She opened her eyes and saw a big glass of water.
“Thanks, Ash.”
“Anytime, sweetheart.”
After sucking down as much water as she could handle, Claire rested her forehead on the bar and closed her eyes. “I shouldn’t have drunk so much,” she muttered to the scarred wood. She could hear Ash chuckling softly, and then felt someone moving their hand over her head.
“That feels good,” she slurred out. It was a relaxing motion, and she let herself drift off, but before she passed out someone helped her off the barstool, had a hand wrapped around her waist, and was moving away from the bar.
“I’ll get her to her room.” The deep voice that spoke was familiar, but she was so drunk it sounded slightly distorted.
Claire let herself be all but carried to her room. Before she knew it she was falling down onto the soft mattress, a content, pleasure-filled sigh leaving her. “Thank you,” she murmured into her comforter, her eyes closed. The stroking motion down her head came again, and she smiled. “That feels so good right now.” Her stomach roiled, and she knitted her brows. “I shouldn’t have had so much to drink.”
“You needed to let loose, I get that.”
Rolling onto her back, Claire opened her eye and blinked several times. She was trying to get her vision to focus. Fortunately, the light was off, and the only glow came from the lighting in the hallway that spilled into the room. Pushing herself up was easier said than done, and when she could see clearly enough, it was to see Big standing a foot from her. He was so big, so powerful, that he seemed to block out everything else behind him.
“What are you doing, Big?” She rested back on the bed and breathed out, too drunk to get into this with him.
“I’m just making sure you got to your room without cracking your ass on the floor.”
“I don’t know why you care at all about what I do,” she said, having no filter right now because of how drunk she was. Claire didn’t even know if he could hear or understand her. Hell, she didn’t even know if she’d said the words out loud.
For a long while there was nothing but silence. As the alcohol started to drag her down into the darkness, she heard him say in his deep, masculine voice, “I fucked up, Claire, but I do care about you. I care about you more than anyone else.”
But she didn’t have the strength to respond or even open her eyes. It didn’t seem to matter any because seconds later the sound of the door closing filled her head, and she let herself fall into a hazy booze-filled slumber.
****
The next night
Big had barely spoken to Claire since she’d been here, and the one and only time had been last night when he’d said a handful of words. Hearing her say he didn’t care about her was eating him up, and he couldn’t blame her for thinking that.
After he’d taken her to her room the party had finally died down, and everyone had either been in the backrooms fucking, or passed out all over the clubhouse. But just because they’d partied last night didn’t mean they wouldn’t do it tonight, and in fact they had. The party that was now winding down had been filled with the same things: booze, coke and weed, and pussy everywhere. He hadn’t seen Cl
aire since last night, though, and wondered if she remembered their brief conversation.
She must have since she’s avoided you like the damn plague.
As it was he wasn’t drunk enough tonight, or even high to deal with what he needed to do … talk to Claire. But it wouldn’t be a short conversation, or him admitting to her again that he’d screwed up. No, he really wanted to talk to her, to try to make things right.
He had to find her, had to tell her the shit he should have said years ago. Enough time had passed between them. Why was he just now having this change of heart? Maybe it was because he realized after seeing her again after all this time that he’d seriously fucked up, even if he had known that all along. He’d just buried it so deep inside that he hadn’t allowed himself to feel, and that was a damn shame and one of the biggest mistakes he’d ever made.
He walked over to the bar, pushed one of the sweet-butts passed out along the bar, and grabbed himself the bottle of scotch. He took a long swig from it, not wanting to get so wasted that he didn’t know what in the hell he was doing, but getting enough fire in his veins that he could be a man and have the balls to do this with Claire. Big took one more shot from it and turned, scanning the room.
She was somewhere in the clubhouse. He just had to find her, and make her listen to him.
A sound from the kitchen had him pushing away from the bar and moving toward it. Big walked into the back room. When he pushed open the door he stopped, seeing a big, round ass bent over. The jeans she wore were slightly frayed on the ass cheeks, but it was the fact he knew exactly who that ass belonged to, in all its big and round glory.
He’d know that ass from anywhere, and it was a sight that always got his blood pumping. Big leaned against the doorframe and crossed his arms, feeling his cock harden at the way Claire was unaware he was watching her as she shook her ass.
He was a dirty bastard for reaching down and palming his cock through his jeans, but hell, the way she swayed her hips had the fucker standing hard and at attention. She stood, looked at the bottle of wine that was covered in a thick layer of dust, and wiped off the bottle with a rag she grabbed off the counter.