Wild Side

by Cynthia Ayman

  “Err… nope.” I don’t want to be involved in a giant orgy with people smoking weed or worse. Pinkie can have his drunk and horny ass.

  I’m a little bit of a hypocrite and I know it. I live here, for God’s sake. OK, it might be temporary, but still. They’re nice with me, as far as being polite means being nice. I get on well with Bear, and I kinda took one of the prospects underneath my wing. He’s eighteen and seems to have had a rough life with his family. I understand why he sought a different one in the club. He awakens my maternal instincts, and I always make sure he has a good, healthy sandwich for lunch. So, there are definitely some things that I do enjoy in this life. I’m just not positive the other aspects of the club are for me.

  At all.

  “We’ll leave when it gets too crazy. I just want us to have dinner, a few drinks and relax,” Apa murmurs as he pushes back a strand of hair behind my ear. I keep my hair in a ponytail when I work but after a long day, it’s definitely not as neat as it should.

  “We?” I find myself repeating, glancing at him hesitantly. So, he’s not planning on sending me to bed with earplugs while he threesomes his way into the night?

  “Yeah. We haven’t had the chance to spend time together, have we? I’m sorry. There were some issues and… they’re solved now. It’s all good.”

  “I thought you regretted bringing me here,” I admit, because I’m a grown-ass woman and I believe in communicating my feelings, even if they make me feel like a whiny teenager.

  He frowns and shakes his head. “Your ass is still in my bed every night, right?”

  I chuckle. “That’s what Bear told me.”

  “That’s how we roll. That being said, I do feel awfully neglected since I haven’t been able to do anything to said-ass.”

  I pinch my lips as I cover the bowl of freshly-made icing. “I have to tell you something, though.”

  “I’m listening.”

  “I don’t think I’m into anal play,” I let out in a breath as I turn to face him. “I’m OK with people being into it, I honestly do not care. It just never appealed to me. I’ve never done anything, or… ever had anything done to me, and I think it’s best if you’re aware of the fact that I don’t know where your prostate is. I mean, I do know its general location, but that’s all. Even if I found it, I wouldn’t know what to do with it. Do I stroke it, do I rub it, do I circle it?” I push back the stubborn strand of hair with the back of my wrist, forcing my eyes to stay on him. I’m an adult, I have a healthy sex life, and it’s important to communicate with your partner, after all. “So… I might not be the best partner for the butt stuff.”

  Apa stares at me for a few seconds, unblinking, before snorting loudly. “Jesus Christ, woman, the things that come out of your brain.”

  I rest my hands on his hips, summoning my inner scolding mistress. “You really want me to believe you guys aren’t into that?”

  “Yeah, we are. I am. Mostly your ass though, not mine,” he adds with a smirk. “But that doesn’t mean I expect it. Something you don’t like, whatever. We’ll do something else.”

  I nod. “Good. That’s… yeah, that’s good.”

  “That being said, you realize you just gave me a hell of a challenge too, right?”

  My glare is worthy of an Oscar. It only makes him laugh, and I’m struck once again by how handsome he is. He does seem tired, but he wears that well. The asshole wears everything well.

  Chapter 15

  Apa

  We’ve had a few issues since we came back home. The club used to be in some deep shit. Drugs, firearms kind of shit. Up to a point where they found themselves in the middle of a cartel war, shortly before I joined as a prospect. It didn’t stop me then because I was a hothead, and the prospect of danger was only more appealing to me. I was having a hard time reacclimating to the civilian world, and felt more comfortable surrounded by violence. It’s fucking twisted, I know, but at least you can react with your fists. It took me a while to realize that this was not healthy, but the brothers helped me. There is a reason most of us were in the military. We share something, an understanding most people will never have.

  When brothers started to disappear, we realized we were in over our heads. There was a mutiny and a change of leadership after an attack killed an old lady. Lee’s mother. Lee was the president’s son and had already tried to warn the club about the consequences it could face. Once Rosie was dead, they started to listen. The president’s old lady dying is a big deal, and that’s when we realized things had gone way too far. We were dealing with the wrong crowd, and we had to find a way out.

  It took years to slowly pull ourselves out of that mess. We opened a few businesses, legit and regular with maybe a little bit of weed-dealing on the side. We love weed, and we figure it’s not that big of a deal in this day and age. It’s now legal in some states, after all, including ours. There is also some stuff happening in the private rooms at the strip-club, but our girls are safe. If they want to make extra money, it’s on them. There is always someone to make sure nothing bad happens to them, and we’re vigilant with that.

  So, I’ve had to deal with some missing weed we were supposed to deliver to some customers in Idaho and another chapter in Oregon. Someone had stolen from us, and it’s always a bad look, no matter how you put it. It makes us look weak, which is dangerous in our world. We are still outlaws, so we can’t let that swing. We found the culprit, got the weed back, dealt with him, and now everyone can relax. We lost some cash in the transaction as collateral, but the situation is not a situation anymore.

  That means I can focus on my little paparazzi.

  I found out something surprising this week. I have a thing for aprons and baker uniforms. Abby wears some white pants and a pale green chef’s blouse, and I really dig that. It looks fucking cute on her.

  Also, she smells good. Like, all the time good. Right now, it’s cinnamon and brown sugar, which is probably my kryptonite, but I also often get dark chocolate and vanilla or coffee. It makes me want to make a meal out of her every damn time, and I haven’t had the occasion yet. She goes to bed when I’m usually at church, and by the time I wake up, her day has already started.

  This ends tonight. My dick is almost perpetually hard, and I can’t remember the last time I went so long without sex. It seems ridiculous, but it’s been almost a week and I literally live in a house surrounded by free pussy. So yeah, a week is long. Especially since I have Abby in my arms every night and can’t do shit about it. She’s tired, it’s obvious, and I’m not a pig. I’m not going to wake her up because I have a stiffy.

  I’m not planning on staying with her downstairs for two reasons. One, I don’t want to send her running for the hills. The week was tough, so the usual rowdy party is going to turn into a giant fuck fest when the brothers evacuate the tension. Two, I fully plan on fucking her and I doubt she’ll be game doing it in front of everyone.

  She doesn’t know it yet, but Abby has been fitting right in. She’s discreet, doesn’t stir shit and is spoiling the guys. Bear is probably one day away from building a shrine to her, and Jackson, our youngest prospect, follows her around like a puppy.

  The club girls are not too pleased, but they’ve had to work a lot to make up for the brothers tracking the asshole who stole from us, so Abby hasn’t had to deal with their cattiness yet. Lacy promised me she’d try to look out for her, but Pinkie and her friends will be a handful, I can already sense it.

  Another reason to move her to my room before the night gets too crazy.

  We all have chores to do in the common areas. Cooking, cleaning, taking care of the trash, everyone has to pitch in. It’s something that was decided when the club was originally created. Friday nights, we always get takeout, though. Same with Saturday nights. By the time Abby is done with her cinnamon rolls - which smell so fucking good I’m practically drooling, by the way - everyone is home for dinner and pizza is on its way. I help her clean when she promises me I get dibs on the rolls and can ha
ve as many as I want.

  This girl knows the way to my heart.

  There are too many people here during the weekend and we can’t all sit at the kitchen table, so we end up in the common room, as Abby names it, sitting at a table with Reese and Lacy.

  Reese winks at Abby, knowing it will make her blush. She still hasn’t gotten over the fact that he saw her almost completely naked. Well, she was completely naked, but he only saw a few glimpses.

  Glimpses he totally approved of, by the way. Had to punch the fucker when he mentioned how good his dick would look between her tits.

  Lacy arrived two years ago. She needed quick cash and started working at the strip club. It wasn’t her scene though, and once she had enough money to pay off her debts, she found a job as a waitress in a bar in Fresno. She stayed with us nevertheless. She hangs around a lot, and most of the time with Reese. I even thought she’d become his old lady eventually, but he doesn’t seem interested. I hope Lacy will get tired of it and leave because it’s clear as day she is more attached to him than he is to her. She’s a nice girl. I don’t want to see her hurt. Reese is oblivious, though. He’s never been the sharpest tool in the shed.

  Things start to really heat up when we’re having our second drink after dinner. Abby changed out of her work clothes, but she is kinda sticking out like a sore thumb. She is as pretty as usual, don’t get me wrong. Just slightly… overdressed compared to the other girls. She knows it too because as more girls arrive in skimpy outfits, the more uncomfortable she looks. I don’t care how she looks, because I’ll get an eyeful later anyway, but I don’t want her to feel unsure of herself.

  I pull her into my lap when Pinkie walks inside the room, wearing a schoolgirl uniform. Abby goes stiff against me, something I’m not really used to. I can see her eyes drifting to the pool table behind us and I have to twist my neck to see what has her attention.

  Ah. Millie is giving Spike a blow job.

  I slip my hand onto Abby’s thigh, gently rubbing. It’s just a blow job, after all. When people start to cheer behind us, I know things are heating up.

  “Oh my God,” Abby says in a small voice while I’m listening to Reese’s plans for our next run in February.

  I pat her leg when I hear loud moans behind me. I recognize Millie’s usual high-pitched screeching that tells me she is getting it. Abby squirms on my lap and I tighten my fingers on her thigh. Things are still at a tolerable level, and I want Abby to get used to them.

  I’m not sure why. I’m kinda forgetting the whole temporary aspect of our relationship in the moment. She just feels good on my lap. I’m starting to get what Poe meant when he said that sometimes, you just click with someone. I’m not about to write a fucking haiku about Abby’s hair color, but let’s face it: I’m turning more like my VP by the day. It started with me not wanting to hurt Abby, even if it meant dealing with a superb case of blue balls. Now, it’s… I’m not sure what it is, but I enjoy having her with me, even if it forces me to behave as well as a choirboy.

  Once the sex starts, though, people get horny. It never fails. Reese and Lacy seem to decide to stick with me, and I send them a silent thank you when they keep talking as if nothing is happening around us.

  Lacy asks Abby about her business, Huntington, fuck, she even makes her talk about her cat, which she left at her friend’s. It’s one of the most surreal conversations of my life when Reese joins in to tell them about Mr. Potato, the cat he got for his eighth birthday. Pinkie is bent over a chair five feet away from us and getting the shit pounded out of her when he tells us how he bawled like a baby when he died.

  Which was six years ago. I remember because I got drunk with him, raising my glass to honor Mr. Potato’s memory because that’s the shit best friends are supposed to do for each other.

  Abby is now squirming in my lap and I can’t help it, I’m getting a boner. I mean, people are fucking around us, I have a hot girl in my arms and her ass is grinding into me every time she moves. She senses it and freezes, then turns to glare at me.

  I grin innocently because, fuck, I’m made of flesh and blood. When I try to slip my hand between her thighs, she jumps from my lap.

  Game over, I guess. She held out much longer than I first thought, to be honest. I expected her to dash out as soon as someone took his dick out.

  I grab her hand before she can escape and stand up as well. “Thanks,” I mouth to Reese and Lacy as Abby is pulling on my hand. By the time we’re on the other side of the room, Lacy’s boobs are out and Reese is sucking on them like a starving man.

  I owe him one.

  On the other hand, the fucker made me toast to his fucking cat, so I guess we’re even.

  There is a couple fucking on the stairs and it makes Abby stop so suddenly I bump into her. My hands on her hips, I push her forward, and I have to hold back a laugh at the way she steps over a pair of legs. Most doors are open when we make it to the second floor. I send Abby forward when I remember I forgot to grab some cinnamon rolls. By tomorrow morning they’ll be gone if I don’t save a few.

  I store a couple in a box and rush back upstairs, ignoring Pinkie yelling my name to have me double-team with Spike.

  I’m half-expecting to find my door locked with Abby safely inside and packing her things.

  What I’m not expecting is her standing in the hallway, her mouth hanging open as she stares inside a room through the open door.

  I turned down a sandwich downstairs and I get to witness one. That thing is always hot, you know. I take a bite of cinnamon roll and moan when the pastry’s flavor explodes on my tongue. Damn it. That thing is out of this world. My growl of pleasure reaches Abby who stares at me with wide eyes.

  “She likes it, you know,” I say, pointing toward the room with my chin. My words are a little unnecessary because the cries the girl is letting out are obviously of pleasure. Even if you don’t know her, the loud “yes, fuck me harder” that she yells is easy to understand.

  “You’ve done this before?” Abby asks, almost as if she can’t help herself.

  “Yeah.” I don’t lie. Why would I? She’s not stupid.

  It seems to snap her out of whatever she was stuck in. She takes off, flying down the hall and this time keeping her eyes straight ahead until she makes it to my room. I follow her, taking my time as I finish a roll. She is standing in the middle of the room, her arms folded over her chest when I kick the door closed while licking my fingers clean.

  “I can’t do things like that,” she attacks right away. “The whole… actually the whole thing. I can’t. I won’t.”

  I shrug as I kick my shoes off. “Not asking you to.”

  It’s true. I know Abby is different. I won’t lie, yeah, I’d like to share some kinky stuff with her because it’s hot. But at the same time, I like what we do. Or what we used to do, since it’s been a while.

  I take off my cut, put it over the back of the chair, then throw my T-shirt in the general direction of the laundry basket. My hands are on the buckle of my belt when she takes a step back. “What are you doing?”

  I don’t reply as I lower my jeans. I think it’s pretty much self-explanatory.

  “If you think I’m going to let you fuck me because you got turned on watching some random girl getting it, you have another think coming!” she snaps. Damn. Her temper is showing again, and it’s hiking up my arousal even more. I love the idea of fucking it out of her a little bit too much if I’m honest.

  “I got turned on because of the hot chick squirming over my dick. And I’m pretty sure she was squirming because watching the girls getting it good made her a little horny.”

  Actually, I should be the one feeling used.

  “You were holding me!”

  I lift an eyebrow. I was holding her, yes. But not holding her back and there is a difference, one she is aware of, too. If she isn’t, then I’m about to give her a crash course.

  She doesn’t have the time to move before I’m already on her. I lift her then throw
her on the bed. She is still bouncing when her shoes are already off. She helped me too, she’s wearing a pair of ankle boots that you just have to pull on. She struggles when I attack the fly of her jeans, but I manage to open the top button and lower the zipper.

  Her hands are flying as she slaps my arms but it’s futile. I’m taller, stronger, and on a mission. My hand slips inside her pants when she is biting my bicep.

  “Apa!” she yells as I cup her pussy.

  I look at her, smugness probably written all over my face. “You’re wet.”

  “I’m not,” she grits out.

  The heel of my palm presses against her clit, making her breath hitch and her hips tilt up. Her panties are soaked, and I push them to the side so I can have unrestricted access to her pussy.

  My head lowers until I can nibble on her neck. She is not fighting me anymore. Her hand is soft around my wrist as I thrust a finger inside her and start to pump slowly.

  “Aaron,” she says softly, and it’s enough to make me let go of that little spot that drives her nuts when I lick it, the one right under her ear. I give it one last kiss then lift my head.

  “Yes?”

  “I don’t like the idea of you with other girls. I mean, I know… I’m not stupid. But if you’ve been with someone else-”

  “Not since last week,” I interrupt her. “You don’t have to take my word for it but seeing as I’m probably only gonna last a few minutes, you’ll have your proof.”

  “Because you haven’t had sex in a week?” She smirks. “You’re ruining your reputation, you know.”

  “Babe, I’ve had this gorgeous girl in my bed for almost a week, and I’ve been dying to do a lot of filthy things to her. I’ve worked up an appetite, and I’m gonna need to take the edge off, first.”

  She looks at me as if she’s trying to make up her mind. I have nothing to hide so it doesn’t bother me.

  That doesn’t mean I don’t want to help her make up her mind. My finger drags slowly out of her, then pushes back, curling to press against her sweet spot. It’s not fair, I know. She is horny, and I’m using it against her.