by Jackson Kane
“I see.” The disappointment in his voice really threw me off.
I had convinced myself that whatever fleeting connection we might have had when we arrived at the Wild Boys clubhouse was only imagined. Did he want me to stay? Here with him? I had to push it from my mind. It was too dangerous a thought. Hendrix was a biker. I didn’t fall for bikers. That was the end of it. It had to be.
“So, thank you for everything. I hope you make—”
I turned my head at the sound of Hendrix chuckling. Why the hell was he laughing?
“You’re leaving right now? At four a.m.? In Laramie, Wyoming?” He gestured broadly across the horizon. “I’m gonna go out on a limb and say that taxi services probably aren’t running right now.”
Dammit! I hadn’t even thought of that! Between the attempted murder, fainting earlier, and my PTSD moment, I obviously wasn’t thinking straight. I glanced past Hendrix. Only one unlit highway broke the endless plains in every direction. Not even distant headlights dotted the edges of twinkling black sky. He was right. I wasn’t going anywhere for a few hours.
“Well... shit...”
He smirked at my oversight and patted the area next to him. I felt silly, but at least the tension seemed to have lessened, so I took my seat.
“Consolation prize?” Hendrix sloshed the bottle of wine lightly.
“Oh god, yes!” I snatched it away, not bothering to look for glasses that I knew wouldn’t exist, and just took a long swig. I needed that. I needed a hundred of those after what we’ve been through. I hoped the obviously cheap, ultra-sweet wine would dull some of that horror.
“Thanks for the food. I wish I could’ve kept it down.”
Hendrix nodded his acknowledgement.
“By the way, how’d you get that? I mean, there can’t be a restaurant or a store or, hell, anything for miles that’s open right now.”
He cocked his head at me and smirked. “Motel kitchen was unlocked. Eventually.”
“Hendrix! That’s stealing!” The creases in my smile betrayed my mock righteous indignation.
“What can I say? Prison turned me into a monster,” he shrugged.
“Our justice system hard at work. I’ll have to write my congressman. And these?” I tugged at my poorly fitting clothes.
“The latest in fashion courtesy of Lost and Found. I think most of them are even clean.” He sniffed at the shoulder of his hoodie and gave me a look that said “close enough”.
I giggled softly. Annoying thoughts of how charming he was kept popping up, so I blamed it on the wine.
My eyes returned upward. I’d never seen so many stars shine so brightly before. There was almost no light pollution, minus the big, glowing “vacant” sign which was mostly hidden where we were sitting. It was incredibly calming, and it made all of my problems and everything we’d been through feel so small and insignificant.
“It’s beautiful. The stars. Is that why you’re up here?” I barely whispered, turning toward him.
He heard me but didn’t answer. His eyes were transfixed upward, sparkling in the low light. His hair was swept back so that the auxiliary lighting from the building and the deep night sky could fully paint his rugged features in cool, dreamy tones.
God, this man was handsome in a way I’d never allowed myself to recognize before.
We watched the stars together for a while in silence, passing the bottle of wine back and forth. My senses blissfully dulled and diluted some of the horror that, although still seemed so fresh, now felt at least manageable.
It was peaceful on that roof with him and countless billions of pinpricks above us. It was something I never would have made time for in my regular life, but it was exactly what I needed right then. I probably could have sat there all night... next to him.
“I grew up just outside of Topeka,” Hendrix abruptly broke the silence. His words were soft and distant at first like he was remembering a dream. “Small house with a big yard and plenty of cottonwood trees. As long as I could remember, I always wanted a treehouse. Some of my friends had them, and it always made me insanely jealous.
“My father worked a lot and never had the time or patience to put one together for me, so I used to sneak onto our roof instead. I’d imagine it was my treehouse. I even brought a trunk up there that—” He chuckled, tossing me a disarming smile before continuing, “that wasn’t very waterproof. It held, or rather, destroyed all of my important kid shit. A flashlight, some candy and soda, a few old comics, and even this raunchy porno mag I’d lifted from... I can’t remember.
“Then on a clear night like this, I stopped looking down and started looking up. I saw the stars for the first time. Really looked at just them. Unhindered by tree branches and buildings, the massive scope of it... felt like I could see forever. It made me feel connected to something much larger, something more important than just myself.
“So when my parents divorced and everything else in my life got all fucked up, that roof on a clear night used to put me at ease. Pussy, my bike, my brothers... lying awake in prison in the middle of the night on that shitty cot, listening to my bunkmate get ass-fucked... It was the stars that I missed the most. All the vastness of the universe couldn’t penetrate my six-by-eight cell.”
I looked at him in mild awe. “That might be the worst and saddest description of a place I’ve ever heard.”
“Yeah, if you thought the DMV was bad...” He cocked an eyebrow at me.
Hendrix was a dangerous, mysterious criminal, but he was also charming and surprisingly funny. He was a very difficult man to figure out.
“What’s your story? How’d you get wrapped up with a bunch of outlaws like us?”
“I’ve been asking myself that same question.” I knew I really shouldn’t be sharing anything with him. “I guess I’m doing all this for my sister. She’s having some trouble at home.” After everything he’d already done for me, the least I could do was not be rude. I couldn’t help but like the man a little. He did attempt to shield me from a shotgun blast, so as long as I kept the conversation light and vague, it should be fine.
“So you’re riding cross-country with a bunch of murderous, drug-running bikers… to improve your sister’s home life?” Hendrix asked, confused, but accepted it in a sure why not? sort of way. He went to take another sip before realizing the bottle was empty, so he set it down.
“When you say it like that... it does sound ridiculous!” I laughed. “It’s more complicated than that.”
“It always is.” He smiled then stood up and stretched. A moment later, there was a new bottle in his hand. I shook my head at his ingenuity. What else did he have hidden away up here? “How are you related to Skids?”
“What?” That caught me off guard. I didn’t know what to say, but I wasn’t about to go into the specifics, and that seemed pretty damn specific right now. How did he find out that we were related anyway?
“C’mon. Skids is one of the most detached, old-school, military types I’ve known. We’ve been friends for a long time, and the only time I can get him to say anything about his past is with a top shelf’s worth of alcohol.” Hendrix reminded himself of the wine and paused long enough to take a few long pulls. “Ever since you showed up, he’s been bending over backwards for you.”
“I… uh… I don’t,” I stammered, trying to buy time.
“Can’t be his daughter. Hangers are a Latino MC, so your dad’s Mexican and your mom’s... Asian.”
“Korean!” I snapped back and pretended to be insulted. After a lifetime of people screwing that up, it didn’t bother me now. My mom was born in St. Louis. I was third generation. I couldn’t be any more American than most people here in the States.
All right, perhaps I doth protest too much, but that’s because Hendrix was working out the connections and I was trying to distract him. Jesus, he was sharp for a biker! Stop exceeding my expectations... like now!
My disdain didn’t even faze him.
When this all started, Robbie t
old me that secrecy was a matter of life and death. No one could know who I was or what I was trying to do. It could tie Robbie to a rival MC and he’d be kicked out or worse. I needed to change the subject before he figured everything out. Dammit! I couldn’t think of anything. Why did I drink so much wine?
“Hey!” I touched his knee. “Uh... tell me more about the stars?” Tell me about the stars? That’s the best I could come up with? Seriously? I was so screwed.
He glanced over at me but ignored my stupid request. “You’re his niece, that’s gotta be it. It still doesn’t make sense that he’d be mixed up with the Hangers. Where did you say you were from?”
I panicked, stole away the bottle of wine, and took a big sip. Now I was really worried. If the Coffin Eaters knew who I really was, they’d kill me or use me for leverage somehow. I’d seen the Veins do it to people before, and I refuse to be anyone’s bartering chip!
Instead, I kissed Hendrix.
He tasted like grapes. His prickly beard was rough, but I… I didn’t mind it. Hendrix was so different from the safe, clean-shaven boys that I had always dated. Even through the haze of alcohol, I could feel the heat surge to my face as we pulled away. My heart was beating faster, and my breath quickened. Boy, was I thankful it was too dark for him to see me blush.
I did it to distract him, I immediately reassured myself. That was it. What startled and worried me most was that I didn’t hate it. It was so wrong to have kissed him.
I closed my eyes. I hate bikers. I tried to remind myself what they did to me and Mom and what they were. My father’s face immediately came to mind, and I shuddered away from a two-fingered caress down my cheek.
When I opened my eyes, it wasn’t one of Slick’s thugs this time – only Hendrix. I’d never allowed myself to look at him this close before. His strong jawline, thick eyebrows, and long lashes were strikingly handsome.
Hendrix looked at me. Was he trying to read me, to figure out what I was thinking? Maybe he was trying to justify whatever was going on inside of his own head as he was searching my eyes for something. I’d seen him watching me when we’d stop to rest on the ride to Colorado. I wasn’t so naïve that I couldn’t tell when someone was interested in me.
“You don’t have to be afraid of me.” His words were deceptively smooth but also had the ring of honesty about them. I desperately wanted to believed him.
I was such a liar and a bigot.
I needed to believe that all bikers were the same to protect myself from ever being hurt again. I hadn’t known Robbie or Hendrix long, but they’ve both shown me more character in the last twenty-four hours than I’d seen in a lifetime around the Steel Veins.
Not all bikers were the same.
The raw truth of it was that I wanted Hendrix. I wanted to feel what a real man was like, and the lies I told myself couldn’t convince me otherwise. I felt it the second he stepped out of that shower. Now here he was. There were no more distractions or pretense. He was looking directly and only at me.
He found what he was looking for and kissed me. This time, it wasn’t the reaction of a surprise. He meant it. Every soft twist, nibble, and press. I fell into it, letting it happen. I was alive because of him, and I was leaving in the morning. I would never see him again. Could I really pass this up?
Countless, easy excuses came to mind to let this happen. At the heart of it, I just couldn’t get the thought of him out of my mind. This went against everything I’d ever allowed myself to believe in. With each passing second, all my hang-ups and resistance became smaller and less important.
Hendrix wasn’t like the rest. I had no doubt that he could turn me to ash, but I was less and less convinced that he would. If it was all a lie, one that would come back to burn me in the ass, then I would at least revel in the warmth for now.
His face in mine, I blindly pulled at his hoodie, clumsily wrenching it off of him. I had imagined what his naked skin felt like during the whole ride to the Wild Boys clubhouse to the point that I had to chastise myself for it. My fingers explored every rippling muscle of his broad back, brushing over every minute, raised ink mark or scar tissue. That man’s back alone could tell dozens of stories.
With a heavy shrug, he pulled me against him. My dulled senses, tingling and heating up, smoldered. My nipples hardened into little marbles and rubbed against his stiff pecs. His lips finally peeled away from mine, finding purchase on cheek, chin, then neck. I rolled my head back and embraced it all.
How long had it been since the last time I had sex? Six months... a year maybe? My last boyfriend was such a wet-as-cardboard wimp, even by my safe standards. I always initiated. I always set the tone. Jesus, it was borderline masturbation.
Hendrix was the polar opposite. His touch was strong and definite, his confidence radiating off of him. His every jerk and twist unabashedly told me how much he wanted this, too, and all I had to do was breathe it all in and hold on.
We crashed against the ledge that ran along the back of the roof. I leaned back and slipped my hideous, collared shirt over my head. Hendrix snatched it from my hands and threw it behind him. He tucked up behind me to undo my bra… or rather he tried to unclasp it.
“Having trouble?” I teased, giggling.
He halted, raised an eyebrow at me, and snapped the clasp, breaking it off completely. “Nope.”
“Aww, do you know how expensive a good bra is?”
“Bill me.” He licked down my neck and sucked on my collar bone. His tongue skated between my tits, then ringed my areola. My chest heaved when he tugged at my nipple – first with his pursed, licked lips then with a hint of pain as his teeth bit down and nipped the tiny pink nub, tenting the entire breast away from my chest wall.
That sent a ripple from my chest down my stomach to my hips. The motion gyrated my crotch into the thick, rough folds of his jeans, and I could feel the bulge of his stiffening cock. Having seen him at half-mast, I was curious, excited, and terrified at what he had in his pants.
His hand slid over my ass and squeezed so tightly that I let out a squeak. My eyes widened, blushing embarrassment marring my face.
“You gonna make it?” He asked, lightening the pressure on my ass but burying his face into my other breast. He didn’t bother looking up, as it was obvious that Hendrix didn’t mind my erupting, weird noises.
It was a really nice feeling. The flushness faded, and I was able to relax a little more. All that wine made it happen a little quicker than I’d ever thought possible, but even still, he wasn’t judging me. There were no expectations. Whatever this was, it just was.
“I’ll survive,” I cooed, watching him work and dragging my nails down his back.
The playing suddenly felt extremely real when I felt his fingers crest the band of my sort’ve-stolen jeans. They slid around back and easily dragged the fabric over my ass. Part of me became really nervous for a second, and I grabbed two handfuls of his long hair and tried stopping him from going any lower. I was more than a little intimidated as old anxieties flared up from my subconscious. He’s a vicious biker!
It was like... I didn’t expect it to go this far. Was that a bad thing, though? I wanted it… him. I’d probably wrapped my brain around every inch of his hard body, but it just didn’t feel right. When he pulled against my grip and inched my pants lower, I really worried. What if he wouldn’t stop? He was so much stronger than me, there was no way I could force him to do anything.
Thankfully, Hendrix sensed something was off and gazed up at me. My expression must have said it all because he let go right away and stood up. He brushed the hair from my face and smiled. “What was that about, surviving?” Hendrix leaned back and ran his hands over his head.
“I-I’m sorry. I just...” I had to take a deep breath, exhaled, and buried my face in my hands. I felt so crappy letting it get that far just to stop.
He retrieved my shirt and pried one of my hands from my face. “Hey, don’t worry about it.” He handed the shirt to me and waited as I shimmied
into it.
Bikers aside, I hadn’t known many men that could take something like this in stride.
Goddammit Hendrix! You make it impossible to hate you!
I looked up at him, feeling guilty, and quickly exhaled in a defeated, breathy laugh. “Growing up in an MC household kinda screwed me up big time. I’m sorry.”
“I just got off a five-year dry spell. Another night isn’t going to kill me.”
I kissed him.
Hendrix ground his teeth and adjusted the bulge in his pants to something more comfortable now that it wasn’t coming out to play. Getting anxious and nervous didn’t make me want him any less.
My panties were still wet, it was so infuriating! I wanted every, thick inch of his cock. I wanted to feel everything he could give me, to wrap myself in him, but my stupid brain just had other plans.
“You should rethink leaving,” Hendrix abruptly changed the mood.
I struggled just to face him.
“I don’t know what happened to you at your father’s club or why it was bad enough to bring you to us, but... whatever it is that you started is worth seeing through to the end.”
“How could you possibly know that?” How could he? He was surprisingly quick, but not even he could know what growing up on the outside of a club was like.
“Look at you. The impact they had on you is still deciding what and how you deal with things. You said you’re doing this for your sister, right?” he asked.
“Yeah.”
“Would you want her to have the same life you had?”
“Of course not, but I work in a law firm now! I’m not an outlaw!”
“You’re a lawyer?” Hendrix visibly tensed up, and a look of worry flashed across his face. His posture straightened and hands tightened. He probably didn’t know he was even doing it.
“I’m just a freshman lawyer, but I’m really nothing more than a research assistant to the firm,” I quickly clarified, hoping to put him a little more at ease. “Don’t worry. I’m not going to turn you in for anything.”