I failed myself.
I failed, period, end of story.
With the road laid before me, I took the wrong path. I guess, in some ways, I have always been on the wrong path. Pops taught me better than that. Did I listen, though? Fuck no.
Tripp and I have always been rebels, until Roundman came along and gave us a different direction. Beyond my brotherhood in the Hellions, my world is all about me, always has been. What I want, when I want it, and how the fuck I want it.
I slap my hand down on the bar to let Corinne know I need another beer, and she immediately uncaps and sets the ice cold brew in front of me. Corinne is cute enough; a short little thing with tits and hips. She has sucked me off before in the stockroom here at Ruthless … the stockroom that I can’t go back into without rage overtaking me. Just thinking of that room and what happened to Tessie, my blood boils.
Sensing something is off with me, Corinne rounds the bar and stands beside me. She is in a short denim skirt, a tight as fuck black halter top, and black heels—optimum clothing for prime tips.
“Rex,” she says huskily, the tips of her nipples poking out the fabric of her shirt, making it known she isn’t wearing a bra.
I don’t reply immediately; I run my hand around the back of her leg, up her thigh, to the sweet juncture between them. As I suspected, no panties, either.
I barely dip my fingertip in the wetness of her core. Circling the edge of her cunt, I tease her as her juices build on my fingertip. Her breath hitches and she moves closer to me.
“So wet, you dirty girl. Were you thinkin’ of me all day? Were you waitin’ for me to come here today and pet this little pussy of yours?” I rub my fingers through her folds and over her clit as she moans in need.
“Yes, Rex. My pussy wants all your attention.” Corrine pushes herself onto my hand more.
I shake my head as I remove my hand and stand. Then, nodding to Purple Pussy Pamela so she knows she is on her own for the next few minutes, I guide Corinne to the back pool room.
She turns around to face me, and I wrap my large hands around her neck as her eyes get big, and her pulse races. I don’t apply pressure, but my hands are in a spot that I know makes her feel vulnerable. I also know she gets off on this.
When she licks her lips in need and want, I release her neck and turn her around. She is short. Add my height to the mix, and she barely makes it to my pecs.
Positioning her facing the wall lined with chairs and dartboards, I lift one of her legs, bending her knee and setting that sky high, fuck me heel on the edge of the chair. Pushing her skirt up, I expose her ass, and she arches, giving me even more.
Unbuttoning my jeans, I then unzip them enough to release the beast that is my cock. Grabbing a condom from my wallet, I sheath myself carefully, avoiding any possible tears on the condom from my piercing.
Corinne turns her head to look over her shoulder at me. Tugging roughly on her hair, I twist her head sideways and push her into the wall. Without warning, I use my other hand to spread her ass cheeks and slam my rock hard cock in her dripping pussy. Oh, yeah, the girl likes it rough, and that is how she is going to get it, too.
Her mouth drops open to make an ‘O’ as I pound away relentlessly. Forgetting everything and everyone around us, I slide in and out of her heat, taking my frustrations out as I squish her face into the wall. Her head slides up as I slide in balls deep, and she hits the bottom of the dart board, causing it to fall off the wall and hits my arm, as well as her back, on its way down. She tries to reach out to grab it, but I only pull her hair harder, causing her to put her hands back on the wall to seek relief. The dart board crashes to the floor with a thud. I pound away.
Her head hits the wall as I continue my unforgiving rhythm. Her pussy clinches me, milking my cock. Her body is begging for release. She is on the edge; I feel it as she tenses further with each thrust. Oh, yeah, she is right there. I almost laugh when she moans loudly.
She moves one of her hands off the wall to touch her clit. She wants it. She wants that high. The build-up. The anticipation. The games we as males and females play. The tease. The seductive dance of getting off. She is so close I can taste it in the air around us. Normally, getting a girl off would feed my ego. Any other time, I would push her hand away and be the one to send her over the edge.
Thinking of going over the edge, I feel my balls tighten. The tingle climbs my spine, and I slam into her harshly one last time, releasing my seed into the condom between us.
She rocks back into my softening cock, seeking her own orgasm. Any other time, I would have held back on my release to give her hers first since she was right there. Suddenly, though, I feel sick and pull out of her.
As I let go of her head, she looks at me and pouts.
Fucking pouts.
I shake my head as I remove the condom, tying off the top before tossing it in the trashcan in the corner.
Corinne is taking her foot down when I reach out and pull her to me. Using the bottom of her shirt, I wipe my dick off before putting it in my jeans.
A fire of pure, contained fury dances in her eyes. She is pissed, rightfully so.
“I was so close, and you just stopped, fucker.”
“Yeah, I did,” I reply arrogantly.
“You really wiped your cock off on my shirt?”
“Yeah, I did. Watch yourself, Corinne; you’re testing the waters. Keep treading the way you are, and you’re gonna drown.”
“Fuck you, Rex.” She huffs, pulling her skirt down and trying to gauge the damage of the stains of my cum on her shirt.
“Know your place, Corinne. This is the only warning you’ll get from me, and you’re lucky I’m givin’ you that.”
Buttoning my jeans, I feel my phone vibrate in my back pocket. Rather than continue to give any more of my attention to Corinne, I turn and walk out of the bar without a second look back as I take my phone out of my pocket.
As I step outside, the fresh air assaults my nose. The bar is always smoke-filled, and the night air is a welcomed reprieve to my lungs.
“Yo,” I answer my phone, knowing it is Tripp.
“Got a nine-one-oh. Meet me at the office in ten.”
He disconnects the call that just informed me that I have a club run to handle. Great. My head is so not in this. Push on, though, because that is the name of my game, for now.
Chapter Two
Mistakes
~Caroline~
“Good morning, Mrs. Thompson” I giggle at my greeting to Kenna as I stand by her office doorway.
I don’t think she will ever get tired of hearing her last name, even though she has been married to Jake for a while now. After she shared a bit of their history with me, I can understand why she smiles at the title. Their path to the altar was definitely the least taken.
“You okay?” she questions me in genuine concern.
Kenna isn’t someone I would consider a close friend, but we do spend lunches together when we can.
“Dandy,” I reply, plastering on my best smile.
“I don’t believe you.”
We don’t get to discuss it further as I feel the air shift around us before I find him behind me.
Chad.
Someone shoot me now please.
Fighting an internal battle, I keep my smile firmly in place as I feel his hand comes to rest on the small of my back. My skin crawls as he settles in behind me as if this is second nature.
My pulse quickens, my chest tightens, and everything seems to move in slow motion. The ticking of the clock on the wall can be heard even as Kenna silences in his presence. Her body language stiffens as she eyes Chad for the predator he is.
Kenna is one of the nicest people I know, so what does she know? Why is she having such a strong reaction to him?
His hand pushes on my back as he slides it to my side to pull me out of her doorframe and against him. Bile rises up in my stomach, making me want nothing more than to puke.
“Good morning, ladies. Mis
s Milton, we have a meeting in ten minutes. I need to review the portfolio with you.”
I can only nod my head and push off the frame, moving away from him. However, his grip tightens, pulling me into his side as he guides me down the hall.
Kenna doesn’t bother to say bye, nor do I. Allowing my mouth to remain closed is the only thing keeping me from throwing up on my designer pumps.
Even knowing I don’t have a hair out of place, I reach up, causing my elbow to jab at him, and smooth back my contained trusses. Business professional, I exude it each and every day.
My current ensemble is a below the knee length, charcoal gray pencil skirt, topped with a fitted black shirt that is buttoned all the way to the top, adding to the restriction on my now tight neck. I am covered in a matching gray blazer, and the only splash of color is a red rose accessory pinned to the collar of my uptight shirt. I have on solid black, nothing fancy or enticing about them, pantyhose ending with my fabric, charcoal gray heels. My hair is pinned back in a sleek and modern French twist, keeping everything about me and my appearance contained.
When I first started, I needed to feel confident. I needed to feel sexy. I would wear suits much the same, but my top would have two buttons undone for my comfort. My skirts would sometimes fall right above the knee, making driving my little five speed Mazda Miata easier. My heels always were high and with a pop of color to accent my outfit and give attention to my legs. My legs used to be covered in thigh highs, hooked with garter straps, and never just plain. There was always a design of some sort to draw attention to my well-toned legs.
Now, I won’t risk it, no matter the cost of my comfort. Call it lessons learned. Clothing can draw unwanted attention, and confidence will waiver under that, regardless. Consider mine now shot. Mental pep talks get me through each day, each hour, hell, each minute sometimes.
I can’t place all of the blame on him. In the beginning, I did get a thrill when Chad would lick his lips with the hunger of a predator. What girl wouldn’t? He is attractive. Dusty blonde hair, short and spiked to perfection. Always dressed in a suit and tie that brings a pop of color; he is pretty boy personified. I knew it would never happen, but it does boost one’s confidence.
The first brushes of innocent touches were like electricity zinging through me. I have the job I have dreamed about. My supervisor was teaching me and really molding me into a successful business woman. He really has taught me a lot; I can’t deny that, as much as I would like to. My supervisor was also praising my work then add to it that his attractive presence made coming to work fun, exciting, and exhilarating. I am not in a place to be in a relationship or to have an office romance, but to have someone show you attraction is a boost.
Because I got myself in this situation, I am determined to push myself through it and come out on the other side stronger for it.
Day in and day out, I will continue to do my job to the best of my ability. However, each touch, each accolade, and each moment of praise now causes my anxiety to raise my blood to boil, and my body to want to lurch with dry heaves. It will pass as it always does, though. I will still be standing strong through this. He will not cause me to walk away.
If only he would move on, find someone else to focus his attention on so we can just be professional. I am good at my job, and Chad is, as well. I could learn a lot from him, but he needs to understand boundaries. Clearly, he hasn’t learned those yet, as his hand is rubbing up and down my back as we enter his office.
With another day to get through, it’s survival of the fittest, as they say.
I blow out the breath I was holding and ready myself to face the next eight to ten hours with him.
~Rex~
“Drexel, you okay, son?” my mom asks as I enter her house.
I haven’t even gone home to change since I checked in with Tripp to let him know I have returned from the week long transport. There was this pull in me during my entire transport to come home and talk to my mom.
Damn, guilt eats at me more. She worries about me, about both Tripp and me and what we do. She doesn’t know everything, but she has her ideas. I am not about to clear any of that up, though. She can live in her assumptions for all I care. They are probably easier than the truth of what I have done and will most likely be called to do again.
“Yeah, why wouldn’t I be okay?” I question, knowing I never come here unless she requests my presence.
It’s not that my mom and I aren’t close, but well, we aren’t close. She has always been there for me and Tripp, but I don’t know; we just aren’t close. I think I have always been too much for her to handle. Add Tripp to the mix, and it is definitely double trouble. We take care of her out of obligation, sort of. My mom has been there, whereas Tripp’s mom bailed.
“Come on, son. What’s going on? I don’t have the patience for bullshit, and you’ve never been one to give it to me.”
That is my mom, blunt as ever.
“I fucked up.”
As she laughs at me, I can’t help looking at her in shock.
“What the hell? I’m trying to be serious for once in my damn life and you laugh at me?”
I turn to leave when she reaches out and grabs my arm.
“Drexel, wait!” I look over my shoulder at her. “I never thought you would come to me over a girl.”
“It’s not over a girl, Mom.” I sigh and turn back to her. “Well, not exactly. It’s about my life.”
“Drexel, it’s always about a woman. It’s the way of the world, the dance of the heart. The whole women are from Venus, men are from Mars.” She smiles softly at me as her eyes dance in amusement. “Okay, I’ll stop all the sappy shit. I’ll just say nothing brings a man home to his momma faster than a woman.”
Time has been good to my mom. Her long, blonde hair falls in soft waves down her back. Her complexion doesn’t show the hands of time. Where Tripp’s mom looks weathered and leathered, my mom’s skin glows in radiance. The only lines on her face are those of laughter, making her features exude a different sort of calm and peaceful joy at all times.
She has always been the quiet safety I can turn to. I have never known a time when my mom let life kick her and keep her down. It hasn’t been easy, but she has never let me see her struggle.
Much like Tessie, she has always been a giver. She has given me her time, attention, love, and anything else I would have ever needed, even if it meant she had to go without.
After Pops died, Mom struggled. His money, no matter that his retirement wasn’t much, was gone, yet she still had to provide for Tripp and me. We didn’t have the best of everything, but we had food, clothing, and shelter. Honestly, looking back, I didn’t even realize just how hard she had to work: the long hours, the back breaking second jobs cleaning houses on weekends after work, weeks as a waitresses and daycare teacher. Yes, there were times she worked three jobs to keep things afloat, but not one time did she ever complain, and her burden never carried over to Tripp or me. Of course, we were just punk ass teens, not paying attention to everything she was sacrificing for us.
Thinking on it, I reach out and pull her to me for a hug, my large frame engulfing her as she hugs me back. Pulling away, I follow her to the kitchen table.
Her house is done in shades of turquoise with beach items, reminding her of the few times we vacationed at the coast. It is almost as uplifting as being on the beach, almost.
She gestures for me to sit while she grabs two mugs and pours coffee for us both.
“Talk to me, Drexel. What brings you home?”
“It’s not just a woman. Well, not just any woman, Mom.”
“Go on,” she encourages, as she takes the seat across from me.
I find myself nervously running my thumb on the edge of the warm cup. How do I say all this?
“It’s the mother of my child … my son.”
She gasps, her surprise evident as her eyes widen. Yeah, that is about how I feel, too. Well, maybe like I have been punched in the gut so hard the ai
r was pushed out of my lungs. For me, that is how all this feels: like I can’t breathe.
“You have a son? I … I … I have a grandson?” Her words come out in a whispered stammer as she takes in the bomb I just dropped on her.
“Yes, I do. And yes, you do. His name is Axel Devon Crews.”
She brings her hand to cover her trembling lips as the tears pool in her eyes, emotions dancing in her eyes. I can’t read them. Is she happy? Is she hurt? Is she mad? I may be thirty-three years old, but even grown, I don’t want my mom upset with me. Hell, I hate myself enough for all of us right now.
“Were you there for the birth? Is he healthy? You gave him your name, our last name?”
“No, I wasn’t there for his birth.” I hang my head in shame. “Mom, I missed it all. His birth, his first breath, his first cry, his first word, his first tooth, his first steps. Hell, I missed his first fuckin’ day of school.”
Anger flashes in her features before she contains it and watches me as I continue to run my thumb over the coffee mug.
“Did you know about him?” I don’t answer. “Drexel Devon Crews, I raised you better than this. How could you do that to his mother?”
“Mom, stop.” I look up at her.
“Stop! After everything you and Tripp have seen me go through for you boys, you left some girl to do it on her own when you can easily step in and ease the burden? I’m not sayin’ marry her, but damn, son. You were man enough to get hard, man enough to have sex with her, so be man enough to deal with the consequences with her.” She looks me straight in the eyes, not backing down.
“No, Mom, I didn’t know about him. Well, I did, but I didn’t know he is mine. It’s such a mess.” I drop my head as I let the disappointment of my mistakes weigh further on my soul.
“Talk to me. Tell me how you knew but didn’t know.”
“Tessie is this incredible woman, Mom. Strong like you. Gorgeous. Hell, she’s fuckin’ beautiful in this natural way. She’s got this grace and untouched way she carries herself. Mom, she’s rock solid.” I run my hands through my hair and pull harshly. “I’ve never met anyone as strong as her. Been knowin’ her for a long time, Mom. Nothing holds her back … well, nothing but me.”
Innocent Ride Page 2