Clover, Ashley, Haven, and even Shelly became the sisters I’d always wanted. Our lives revolved around one another’s in ways we’d never predicted. The men we loved worked together as a unit. Remove one or more of them from the equation, and the entire family would falter. I knew all too well what that was like. My own family was never the same once I decided to leave them; it was the last thing I wanted for Buck’s boys. My family and I had made strides to improve our relationship over the last few weeks. Standing lunch dates, shopping trips, and daily phone calls helped with filling the holes in our fractured relations. The golden princess was even around for a few of my visits. Imagine that. Oh, she tried to make it seem like it was just a coincidence, but I knew she’d planned it that way. I never gave her shit about it; she could keep up with her silly charade, as long as the end result was the same and our relationship bolstered.
Nipsy wasn’t so easily convinced that everything was perfect and that I was ready to return to work. “Don’t wanna have to be cleaning up no more blood because of you, girl,” he said.Drew was a non-factor. His parents arrived the day he was discharged from the hospital and took him back to his hometown for rehabilitation, but that wasn’t good enough to satisfy my boss. Three weeks, a reduction of hours, and an in-person visit from Marcus were the only way he would agree to have me back. The two alpha hotheads entered into some kind of macho blood pack concerning my safety and approved duties. After a series of grunts, snarls, and chin tips, they’d reached an understanding, and I’d been allowed to work ever since. One night during dinner, I asked Clover and the other women if they had to put up with that bullshit as well, and their response was unanimous.
“Welcome to the house that Buck built.”
Jiminy Cricket.
Not everything turned out to be sunshine and daisies. My relationship with Odie took a big hit after her time spent locked up with MacCabe. It’s not that she blamed me for what happened; she knew how it all went down and the price all of us paid for Drew’s deception. She wasn’t happy that I was spending time with the “Barbie Bitch,” as she’d so aptly nicknamed Marci. The mere mention of my sister in Odie’s presence would send her into a tizzy that lasted anywhere from a few minutes to several hours, depending on the context. I couldn’t blame her. I’d had that same reaction myself until recently. I did, however, find it odd that she didn’t harbor the same resentment towards the man who’d held her captive for two days—Darragh MacCabe.
I begged Odie to tell me what happened, but she wouldn’t budge on the topic of the Boston mob boss. Her face would bloom as red as a rose just before she’d change the subject or pretend to be too busy to talk about it. I couldn’t force her to confide in me, but I promised to lend an ear if she ever needed a friend to sit down with. Just as she’d done for me during my difficult times. Odie was a hopeless romantic with a fragile heart. She loved hard, often with the wrong sort of man who took advantage. Even though she played the role of tough girl, she hurt easily and hid her sorrow behind an easy smile and bubbly attitude. If anyone deserved to find the man of their dreams and live happily ever after, it was definitely her. That illusive “thing” worth fighting for? Only time would tell what that was for my good friend Otelia Mae.
My advice while she waited?
The same thing Buck Calhoun had told me…
EPILOGUE
Marcus
HARD WORK AIN’T NEVER killed nobody, boy.
I always thought Buck was full of shit when he used to tell us that while we worked our asses off in the junkyard. He’d often used words like “pride”, “accomplishment”, and “freedom” when he described putting your heart and soul into something and watching your dream turn into a reality. The first few months after leaving the Marines had been some of the hardest days of my life, one giant blur of uncertainty. I’d felt so out of touch with civilization, sliding down the edge of a sharp knife that threatened to cut me in half with one wrong move. I struggled to find my direction, my purpose for living, when so many others had died fighting for freedom. Destiny owed me a fucking victory after so many years of defeat, and I planned to suck that bitch dry. My brothers all supported the idea of adding another dimension to Buck’s Junkyard by expanding to add motorcycle sales. They jumped in headfirst with marketing ideas, influential contacts, and investment strategies; all in-house and kept exclusively within the family. Buck’s Bikes would ultimately be my baby, just as the junkyard belonged to Range, but that didn’t make us any less of a team. It wasn’t about individual success; that shit was fleeting. It was about keeping the legacy going—Buck Calhoun’s legacy.
The upgrades to the junkyard weren’t the only life events we had to look forward to. Our close-nit family was growing, and the women were beside themselves with all kinds of girly shit. They all caught the fever, and the boys and I were running out of excuses as to why it wasn’t the right time. I wanted things to be perfect for my woman; we fucking deserved as much. I called a temporary truce with Maribel’s father. She felt it was important to mend the broken bridges between us, so I did it for her sake. It wasn’t like she’d left me with much of a choice. At the time, she was on her knees deep-throating my cock. I would’ve agreed to just about anything so long as she wouldn’t stop. He wasn’t exactly overjoyed that we were back together, but once I made it clear that his opinion wasn’t wanted or fuckin’ needed, he backed off.
Who was I kidding?
I caught his ass coming out of the hospital parking lot one night and stuck my nines between his teeth. One minute later, we were just like peas and carrots. Problem solved. Now, Maribel could enjoy her visits with the Laine family, and I get to reap the benefits of her sweet pussy when she arrived home safe and happy. Win-win situation for everyone, thanks to a little thing called diplomacy.
Fox wasn’t around to share in our good fortune. Since the night of the fight, he’d closed himself off and cut ties with all involved. I wasn’t allowed within two feet inside the tattoo shop before one of his crew told me to kick bricks and not to come back. I exercised restraint that day, more than I ever had. The urge to blow that fucker’s knee cap off was strong. I held back. The others received the same reception when they tried to engage. We had no other option but to wait it out and hope that Fox changed his mind and let us back in. The women were hit the hardest by his cold shoulder. They somehow knew it was their fault he turned ghost. He was a trusted member of our family who somehow got it in his thick head that he let us down by not protecting the women properly. That macho bullshit more than pissed us off; it also made zero sense. We all made it out alive, and the shit with MacCabe was over. If he needed time to get his head on straight, I’d give it to him, but he was part of our family, and family always came first.
_______________
Nipsy had needed Maribel to work a later than normal shift at the diner. I wasn’t happy about that shit. Dried-up old prick shoulda known better than to ask my woman to cover his ass. She agreed before I got the chance to do anything about it, so I sat outside on my bike, close to the front door, and waited to take her home safe. I’d be having words with Nipsy later concerning his poor staffing choices and the potential health hazards of any repeated scheduling conflicts. Maribel loved her job and the people who frequented there, especially the regulars. Elderly people were clumsy, had accidents. Left alone to their own devices, they were susceptible to slip and falls, all kinds of unintentional shit. It would break my fuckin’ heart if Nipsy found himself at the bottom of a flight of stairs unexpectedly. Someone his age would definitely break a bone or two. I sure would hate it for him, but shit happened.
“FUCK YOU! I’ll kick all your asses, you lousy bastards.”
“Hey, look, dude, no worries. We made a mistake. Just take it easy, okay?”
“A mistake? I’ll show you a fucking mistake when I rip your balls off.”
“We don’t want any trouble. We’re sorry, okay?”
Yelling over by the dumpsters caught my attention. Two boys no
older than twelve were trying to reason with a third, overly hostile little shit with a bad attitude. The two had their hands in the air, clearly offering a truce, but the little maggot wouldn’t back down. His fists were balled at this sides, nostrils flared, breathing elevated; the kid was about to lose his shit in a big way. The way I saw it, I had two choices: Mind my own fucking business and let the three little sissies duke it out, or climb off my bike, get in the middle, and try and talk some sense into their asses. Decisions, decisions.
Oh, what the hell.
I dropped the kickstand on the bike and casually strolled over to where the boys stood with their backs to me. The hateful little shit was just about to wind up and throw a left hook when I reached over and grabbed him off his feet by his shirt collar. The other two boys took off running in the other direction, scared shitless with piss flowing down their legs. The kid weighed less than my dick, but that didn’t stop him from trying to break away from the hold I had around his neck. I shook him, just hard enough to get his attention, before I spoke.
“Cut the shit,” I growled. “What’s your name, boy?”
“None of your business, you fucking pervert. Let me go before I kick your ass.”
He continued to squirm, throw punches in the air, and spit cuss words until he tired himself out. Out of breath and spent, he sunk to the ground by my feet and sat there with his head lowered. That’s when I noticed the bruising on his lower back when his shirt rose from the struggle. A bead of sweat slid down my temple as I studied his damaged skin and fumed. Someone had really done a number on this kid. No wonder he was out of fucking control. He reminded me of my younger self, directionless and lost, an over-inflated balloon ready to pop with uncaring rage. A knot formed in the bottom of my stomach at the similarities. It took a minute to tamp that shit down before I did something stupid. Maribel was on her way out, and I didn’t have enough time to track a motherfucker down, shoot him in the ass, then get back here before she was ready to go home. Pity.
“That all you got, wiseass little punk? Thought you were gonna kick my ass, tough guy.”
No answer.
“I’m Marcus,” I introduced myself. “Some people call me Memory, if that works out better for you. What’s your name, boy? Not gonna ask you again.” I tried a different tone, something less menacing to his tiny ears. More silence.
“No name, huh? How ‘bout I just call you a little pussy, then? I like the sound of that, don’t you?” A few more ticks went by.
“I’m not a pussy, asshole,” he seethed. “Name’s Kashton. Don’t wear it out,” he sauced.
“Well, KASHTON,” I butchered his name deliberately slow. “What are you fighting for, boy?”
“Kid knocked into me, so I—”
“Not why, pussy… I said what.”
He wore the same blank look on his face that I had the first time Buck had asked me that very same question. Like me, he had no fucking clue how to answer or the importance figuring it out to his future. Maribel stood silently next to the bike, keenly accessing the situation with curiosity yet keeping her distance. I’d have to fill her in later. For now, and against everything I’d ever held sacred, I had to send this kid back home without the benefit of hearing his truth.
“Here, take this.” I reached inside my jacket pocket and produced one of the new business cards that Clover had ordered for Buck’s Bikes and handed it to the boy. It had the phone number and address to the junkyard printed in gold lettering on the front with a photo of a motorcycle on back. He took it with shaky hands but held his tongue from making any more snappy comebacks. Smart.
“When you decide what the fuck it is you’re fighting for, give me a call. Until then… keep your little ass out of trouble. Nothing but pain down that road, boy. Trust me, I know.”
We climbed on the bike and took off down the road and far away from the diner. I wasn’t ready to go home, not after dealing with that kid and his fucked-up situation. I needed to clear my head, to take my mind off tracking down that boy’s abuser and sticking my gun up the crack of his ass and pulling the trigger while I watched him beg for his life. Riding hard and free was the only thing that ever worked next to my woman’s sweet pussy. The wind in my hair and the feeling of power between my legs when I hit the throttle were like my own personal reset button.
Tonight, I needed both.
It was pitch black outside by the time I parked the bike next to the lookout that afforded the perfect view off the entire city of Remington. It wasn’t our first time here. Maribel and I had made this spot our own ever since the night of the high school dance when she became my girl. I needed to feel the comfort of her soft legs wrapped around my waist as I drove my hard cock into her warm, wet pussy. It was my special place, my home away from home. I needed it more than my next breath, especially tonight. Without any fear of embarrassment from being out in the open, I lifted Maribel off the seat and removed her helmet along with my own. Her Nipsy’s uniform was perfect for what I had planned, easy to remove her panties and lay her small frame down flat against the sundowner seat of the Dyna Glide. The model height for my eager mouth to feast on her before she begged to ride my cock as she normally did once she came hard against my tongue.
“Do you have any idea how fucking beautiful you look, little pocket?” I straddled the bike facing the opposite way, my back against the gas tank, while I lifted her legs over my shoulders. “So fucking beautiful,” I marveled.
My finger glided easily against her wet nub. She squirmed against my touch and arched her back closer to my digit when I applied more pressure. I toyed with her arousal, alternating between her clit and her warm passage, whipping her up into a frenzy of need. The minute I introduced my mouth into the mix, Maribel grabbed on to a handful of my hair and screamed bloody murder. A groan bubbled up from deep within my chest as I battered her spot with my tongue, taking her right to the edge before pulling back.
“More, Marcus, please. I want more… Lick me harder,” she chanted over and over while her head whipped back and forth with pleasure.
She needed to come.
But not yet.
I reluctantly broke away from her pussy and used the back of my hand to wipe off some of the delicious cream that dripped from my chin. Maribel banged her tiny fist against the back of the seat and let loose a frustrated breath that made me shake with laughter. My woman was beyond primed; she was blazing hot, and I had just the thing to put us both out of our misery. I freed my hard dick from behind the zipper of my pants. The pre-come coated the palm of my hand from being denied access to Maribel’s cunt for far too long.
“Time for you to ride hard cock, Polly Pocket,” I crooned, unable to hide my carnal desire.
“Hmm, yes, Marcus,” she droned. “I want it fast and hard, tough guy.” Maribel unzipped the top of her uniform halfway and exposed her breasts. She squeezed and tugged on her hardened nipples through her bra, moaning unabashedly from the intense stimulation.
“You can have it any way you want it, baby.” I eased her legs off my shoulders. “Hard, soft, don’t give a fuck as long as I’m inside you. I wanna hear you scream when you come, so the whole fuckin’ world knows you’re mine.”
I eased her up and instructed her on how to level her feet on the pegs of the bike in order to climb on without incident. Two small hands gripped my shoulders as she found purchase. I scooted further down the seat, my grip securely around the globes of her ass.Slowly, she lowered herself. Once close enough, she grabbed my cock and lined me up to her entrance before sliding down nice and easy.
Fucking marvelous.
Fucking perfect.
Fucking mine.
Maribel rocked her hips once, twice. We moaned into each other’s open mouths at how good it felt to finally be joined together. I leveraged our bodies securely to the seat of the bike, my feet planted firmly on the ground; I planned to take full advantage. I spread her ass cheeks as wide as they could go without ripping skin. Her eager pussy opened up like a wond
rous cavern. I gave it all to her, just the way she wanted it, and the way I needed it. Nothing else existed in those next few moments except our two bodies coming together as one.
“Goddamn, you feel fucking good, Maribel. I could fuck you all night.” I surged inside, harder and harder with each pass.
“Oh God,” she clamored. “I can’t hold on, too much… too fuckin’ good.”
“Yeah, that’s it, baby.” I battered her harder. “Take this hard cock. Take all of it, Maribel. Who owns this sweet pussy? Is it mine? Tell me it’s all mine, and I’ll reward you with my come,” I grunted through another hard pass of her wet opening.
I barely held back, then my thrusts slowed.
“I wanna hear you say it, Maribel. Tell me who owns this pussy, and I’ll fuck you harder.” I teased her with the tip of my cock. She tried to reach for more, but my grip on her ass prevented her from lowering further. Not until she told me what I wanted to hear would I give in to her need.
“Your pussy, Marcus,” she whimpered. “You have all of me. My love.” Fuck, yeah.
“That’s my girl.” I lowered her down the length of my shaft. “Hold on to me, baby. Take your fuckin’ the way I give it to you. Don’t you dare hold back on this big cock.”
Slam.
Slam.
“Ughhhh, I’m coming, Marcus… I’m… Fuuuuccckkkkkk.”
Her pussy muscles clamped down on my dick like a vice. Sweat poured down my temples from the effort it took to hold back long enough to send my woman over the edge. Once she screamed out her release, I let go with a savage roar, flooding her cunt with my seed. We stayed that way, connected from the waist down, for several minutes until our breaths evened and our heart rates normalized. Maribel mewled against my neck, and her warm breath tickled my ear with contentment.
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