HAWK (Lords of Carnage MC)

by Daphne Loveling

  Samantha

  Tanner Springs Adult and Community Education

  Introduction to Digital Photography

  This class is geared toward the beginning photographer who wants to learn about their particular camera as well as photography concepts in general. Classes will devote time to hands on instruction with each student’s camera as well as cover topics such as exposure, perspective, focus, and composition. Emphasis will be put on learning the skills needed to ensure you get the shot. Digital cameras can be intimidating – in this class you’ll learn to master yours. Instructor: Samantha Jennings.

  Five 2-hour sessions: Tuesdays, 6:00–8:00 p.m., Hawthorne Middle School.

  Cost: $150. Class limit: 10.

  Tonight is the second session of my photography class, so I already met all the students last week. There’s Ronaldo, a charming and strikingly good-looking guy with black hair and dark eyes. There’s Dennis, a slightly pudgy guy in his thirties with a receding hairline. Dennis already knows how to operate his digital camera, and seems to have signed up for this class only to challenge me whenever I explain a new concept to the class. There’s Floyd and Gladys, an elderly couple who keep asking me questions about the best techniques for taking pictures of the naked body. There are a few middle-aged ladies who watch me with wide, determined eyes and follow everything I do like their lives depend on it. Finally, there’s Annika, a twenty-something girl who during class last week mentioned that she’s engaged no less than three times.

  Tonight’s class is about composition and focus. I start out by doing a short, hands-on explanation of the different focusing modes on the camera and talk for a while about how to use them to make interesting, engaging compositions. I take a few pictures of ordinary objects in the classroom, and demonstrate how changing the focus and composition of the shot can turn a simple photograph into a story. Then we go on a field trip outside, and I have them spend half an hour taking pictures around the middle school campus where the class is being held. Some focus on the plants that are landscaped around the school; others go over and take shots of the playground equipment. Dennis goes to the dumpsters by the back doors and starts taking artistic shots of garbage lying on the ground.

  I wander from student to student, looking at the shots they’ve captured and making suggestions where I can. When the class is almost over, I herd them back into our room and recap some of the tips I’ve given them while we were outside.

  “Okay, looks like our time’s about up for tonight,” I finally say, gesturing at the clock. “But before I let you go, let’s go over the final project. This isn’t a graded class, of course. But during the last session, you’ll each be presenting a small portfolio of your work to your classmates, and giving a short five-minute presentation about a few of the photos and some of the technical choices you made when you took them, and why.”

  Dennis raises a bored hand. “Are you asking us to try to put words to our process?” he asks. “Isn’t the point of photography that it’s a visual medium, and that therefore it’s a way of expressing what words cannot?”

  I resist the urge to go over to Dennis and strangle him. “I’m not asking you to explain your artistic vision, Dennis,” I reply patiently. “You’ll simply be explaining in technical terms how you composed the shot. You don’t need to explain why if you don’t want to.”

  Gladys raises her hand. “Are we allowed to include nude shots in our portfolios?” she asks. A couple of the other students look slightly alarmed, their eyes darting first to her and then to me.

  I don’t even want to know, I think.

  “Let’s keep it G-rated,” I suggest. “Any other questions?”

  A few of the middle-aged ladies have things to ask. Finally, when no more hands are raised, I let them go. I’m gathering up my things when I realize that there’s someone standing behind me. I turn to see Annika’s petite form standing there, looking at me expectantly.

  “Hi, Annika. Did you need something?”

  “Um, yeah, I had a question.” She’s sort of bouncing up and down on the balls of her feet, whether from nervousness or excitement I can’t tell. “So, I think maybe I mentioned last week that I’m engaged?” She holds up her left hand and shows me her engagement ring.

  “Yes, I do think you mentioned that,” I say. “Congratulations.”

  “Thank you!” Annika breaks into a wide, happy smile. “Well, so anyway, Justin and I — Justin’s my fiancé — we were wanting to get some engagement photos done? But we don’t really know any photographers. But then I realized, you’re a photographer!” She beams at me, as if she’s proud of herself for putting two and two together.

  I can’t help but laugh. She’s sort of ditzy, but her enthusiasm is infectious. “Yes, I am,” I smile.

  “So, do you do engagement photos?” she asks. “I mean, I can tell you know what you’re doing, and you’re so nice! We don’t want anything really fancy. There’s this place out in the country? It’s got this really cute old rustic barn and everything, and like, bales of hay? We thought it would be so neat to do it out there! Like, totally natural, not in a studio or anything.”

  “It sounds romantic,” I agree, and pull out my card. “Here’s my website,” I tell her. “It’s got all my information, including samples of my work and my rates. And I’ll even give you a ten percent student discount if you decide you want to have me do your photos. If not, no hard feelings at all.”

  “Oh, thank you!” Annika says, clapping her hands. “I’ll look at it with Justin. I’m so excited!”

  “I can tell,” I laugh. “I’ll see you next week.”

  “Okay, bye!” She gives me another “I’m so excited” grin, and practically skips out of the room, waving the card at me one last time before she disappears. In spite of my instinctive dislike of all things engagements and weddings, I kind of hope she and Justin do decide to hire me to do their engagement photos. She’s the giddiest bride-to-be I’ve ever met. I can hardly imagine what her fiancé will be like.

  I haul my equipment bag through the school toward the parking lot, which will be deserted at this hour except for my hatchback. Only, when I get outside, I see it’s not. Not quite, anyway.

  There’s one other vehicle in the lot. A familiar-looking motorcycle that’s almost as big as my tiny car.

  Next to it stands Hawk, a sexy smile curving one corner of his mouth.

  “Want to cash in that rain check for a ride?” he asks.

  25

  Samantha

  I’ve known Hawk for a while now, but this is the first time I’ve been on his motorcycle. Or any motorcycle, for that matter. I don’t really have time to get nervous, though, because before I even say a word, he’s slung one monstrous leg over the seat and is nodding at the empty spot behind him.

  “Come on,” he says. “Let’s go.”

  I open the hatch of my car and stow my camera equipment, taking a quick look around to make sure no one’s watching, but the lot’s deserted except for us.

  I climb on behind Hawk and put my feet on the pegs he points to. He starts up the bike and I jump a little at the sudden, loud roar. Instinctively, I wrap my arms around his waist to steady me as he puts the machine into gear. I feel the naked, raw power underneath me, between my legs. It’s as though the bike is an extension of the man. Hard. Powerful. Dangerous.

  We don’t speak at all, we just ride. I watch as the town of Tanner Springs unfolds in front of us, close and immediate without the barrier of a car windshield. It’s exhilarating. The cooling air chills my skin, and I snuggle tighter into Hawk’s back and marvel at how I can feel the movement of his abs, even under his leather.

  I have no idea how long we ride. He drives, and I lose myself in the sheer pleasure of the moment and of being with him. Eventually, he turns off onto a residential street, and pulls up at a house that I instinctively know must be his. A little thrill goes up my spine: he’s never brought me here before. I tell myself not to read anything into it, but heat po
ols between my legs at the realization he probably hasn’t brought me here to play Monopoly.

  We’re inside and his hands are lifting off my shirt and unhooking my bra before he even gets the door closed. Dimly, I notice a bandage on his left arm, but he’s doing this thing with his teeth nipping at my earlobe, so any thought of asking him what it is flies out the window.

  “Haven’t seen you in two days,” he growls against my ear. “Too fucking long.” He rips his shirt off over his head with one hand, then thumbs open his jeans and drops them to the ground. His lips are on my breasts, teasing and biting at first one nipple and then the other, so ravenous it’s almost painful. Hawk is like a man possessed, and I’m the possession. My body is for him, and I’m already soaking wet as I realize I’ll do whatever he says.

  Except first, there’s something I want. My mouth is already watering at the thought.

  Wordlessly, I slip out of his grasp and down onto my knees.

  Looking up, I lock my eyes on Hawk’s dark and stormy ones. He looks almost angry, but I know that’s not what it is. He grabs a fistful of my hair as my hand closes over his huge pulsing shaft, my lips and tongue engulfing the velvety head. I moan softly, loving the way he feels in my mouth.

  “Fuck,” Hawk hisses.

  I run my tongue along the sensitive ridge underneath, sucking softly as I take more of him in. There’s no way I could ever take all of him in my mouth, but I compensate with my hand, giving him long strokes as I pull him in deeper, as deep as I can. His thighs are rigid, his hips thrusting just slightly as I stroke and suck him. For a few minutes he lets me do what I want, and I close my eyes, loving what I can do to him, wanting to bring him closer to the threshold, to the point of no return.

  “Stop.” The low command freezes me instantly. I look back up into his hooded eyes, so dark I can barely see the whites. He reaches down and pulls me up until I’m standing, and then my jeans are on the floor as well. “Take off your panties,” he orders. I bite my lip and stare at him as I hook one thumb into the waistband, then tug just a little. I tease him, giving him just a glimpse of what’s underneath, and his lips curl into a leer.

  “You better get those off quick if you don’t want to lose them,” he growls. My nipples tauten as I realize he’s about to rip them off me, and I hook my other thumb into them and pull them down, exposing myself to his lusting gaze.

  “Bring yourself over here, Sam.” It’s not a request.

  I take a step toward him. He grips me by the arms and suddenly I’m on the couch, lying prone with my legs spread. Hawk kneels and slides a teasing finger along my slick and aching lower lips. I moan loudly, my eyes half-closing at how good it feels. I’m already so close.

  “Goddamn it, I love how wet you get for me,” he snarls. Then he’s between my legs, his tongue sliding between my lower lips.

  “Hawk,” I whisper. Already, I’m writhing uncontrollably at how good it feels. His tongue dips inside me, then emerges and begins to swirl patterns around my sensitive nub, just light enough to drive me crazy. I whimper and try desperately to move closer so he’ll give me the relief I need. He holds me fast, though, so I can’t move. I have to let him take his time, and just hope and pray he won’t make me wait too long. The throb between my legs only increases as he teases and taunts me, so good and yet not enough, not nearly enough. I hear my low moans begin to grow higher, sharper, as I buck against his mouth and silently beg him for more. Then I realize I’m not begging silently at all. “Hawk, please,” I moan, “please let me come.”

  He chuckles low in his throat, the vibrations teasing me as he continues to lick and lave. Finally, just as I think I’m going to lose my mind, he draws my tender bud softly between his lips and suckles me, sending a jolt of shockwaves through my entire body. I’m aware that I’m shouting but I can’t do anything to stop it it, all I can do is just clutch at the cushions as I shudder and climax against his tongue.

  I’m still shaking from the release when Hawk picks me up and pulls me onto his lap so I’m straddling him. He lowers me onto his hot shaft, filling me. I’m still contracting inside, and now my muscles pulse around him as he begins to thrust upward to meet me. We find our rhythm, Hawk kissing me deeply as he drives deep inside me, and it’s so good, so good that everything else falls away and we ride the wave together, higher, higher, and suddenly he grabs my hips and slams himself into me hard, then empties himself inside me as we cry out together.

  I’m quivering still as my mind starts to come out of the fog. My face is buried in his neck and Hawk is stroking my hair with one hand, his other arm clutched tight around me. Without a word, he gets to his feet and I wrap my legs around him. Hawk carries me to his bedroom and slips me under the covers with him. We lie there for a while, just kissing, Hawk still stroking my hair.

  “How was your class?” he asks finally.

  I burst out laughing.

  “Very good, thank you,” I say with mock formality.

  “Glad to hear it,” he smirks.

  “So, what’s this?” I ask, fingering the bandage on his forearm.

  Hawk shrugs. “A new tattoo.” He reaches over and pulls at the tape. “Actually, it’s about time for me to take this off.” He leans over and kisses me again. “I’ll be right back.”

  I take advantage of his retreating form to stare at his gorgeous ass and muscled back. When he comes back a couple minutes later the bandage is off, revealing the art work beneath. It’s a guitar like the one he was playing the day of the wedding, with a pair of wings behind it and a word written underneath.

  Liam, I read silently.

  I hesitate, wanting to ask him about the tattoo but knowing he might not want to talk about it. I remember the last time he mentioned having a brother. (“Had,” I correct myself.) I wonder if that’s who Liam is. I know he’s gone — though whether that means he’s dead or just disappeared, I don’t know. I swallow, nervous about doing the wrong thing and upsetting Hawk.

  “It’s beautiful,” I say honestly.

  “Liam was my brother.” His voice is expressionless. Almost like he’s reciting something from memory. I don’t say anything, hoping he’ll continue.

  “He died ten years ago. When I was seventeen.” Hawk nods at the tattoo. “The guitar I was playing at the wedding is his. Was his.”

  I wait for more.

  Nothing comes.

  “You must… miss him,” I murmur softly, my heart breaking for him.

  A beat.

  “Yeah.”

  Hawk pulls me close to him, and I snuggle against his chest and listen as his breathing slows. This is the first time he’s ever volunteered anything about his past. I swallow around the lump in my throat as I try to imagine how hard it must have been for him to lose his brother at such a young age. Being an only child, I don’t really understand what it’s like to have a sibling, much less to lose one. All I know is that Hawk wouldn’t have gotten this tattoo if he didn’t miss him.

  Hawk is asleep now, his breath deep and even beside me. I turn and plant a soft kiss on his chest, then close my eyes.

  26

  Samantha

  The next morning, a low, thick fog creeps into town. It hovers just outside Hawk’s bedroom window like a weird, creepy spy.

  The unsettling weather does nothing to kill Hawk’s good mood, though. When I finally emerge out of my own fog of sleep, he’s already awake, propped up on his elbow as he stares down at me.

  “Finally,” he grins. “I’m fucking starved. Let’s go have breakfast.”

  It’s a completely surreal experience riding a motorcycle through the fog. From my vantage point on the back of the bike, I can’t see anything at all, so visually it seems like we’re standing still. And yet my body can feel that we’re moving through the thickened air. It’s almost like what I’d imagine teleporting would feel like.

  Seemingly by magic, we arrive in the nearly deserted parking lot of a neon-lit diner called Bucky’s. I’ve never seen the place before, whic
h adds to my sense of disorientation. Hawk waits for me to get off the bike, then takes my hand and leads me toward the building, which is actually an old train car. We walk past the long counter and slide into one of the only booths, toward the back. A waitress comes and brings us water and menus. I order coffee, orange juice, and French toast. Hawk orders a combo breakfast that ends up being so big it would last me for three meals.

  I realize as we sit there that Hawk and I haven’t really had a lot of casual chats since I met him. But somehow, the conversation flows completely naturally between us. He asks me about my life before coming to Tanner Springs, and I tell him about living in the city, my failed engagement, and wanting to make a clean break of things. I ask him about joining the Lords of Carnage, and he tells me about his early love of motorcycles, the modifications he’s done on his own bike, and his dreams of someday opening up a custom bike shop.

  “Wow,” I marvel. “I had no idea.”

  “What?” he teases me. “Did you think I was nothing but a hot piece of ass?”

  I laugh so hard I snort, causing the waitress to look over at me with an amused quirk of her brow. “No,” I protest. “But I’m guessing there’s a pretty big difference between someone who knows how to fix broken bikes, and someone who can actually design them. Sorry, but that’s impressive.” I take a sip of my coffee. It tastes good after the chill of being out in the fog. “Is that something you’d do with the club?”

  “Maybe.” He looks like he’s contemplating it. “We’re in the beginning stages of opening up a garage and repair shop. I haven’t really talked to the men about expanding it to include customizations. But it’s something that might work.”

  “You should,” I urge him.

  He frowns. “Maybe,” he says again.

  We sit in the booth talking long after we’ve both finished our breakfasts — so long that the fog lifts, and eventually the waitress stops coming by to refresh our coffee. By the time Hawk pays the bill and we get up to leave, a few people are starting to straggle in for lunch already.