Forever Ride

by Chelsea Camaron

  It’s time to let go completely. I brush my lips to his once more, whisper a goodbye and walk away from all that could have been, knowing that it’s gone for good.

  When I arrive home, I am met at the door with a very angry Nick. Not in the mood to deal with him, I shrug past him, heading to our room to begin packing to visit Doll. Given how my day has gone, I need the time away to sort out my life.

  “If this is going to work, Savannah, I need to be a priority to you,” he barks at me from our doorway.

  “You are.”

  “Oh, am I? Where were you when I got home after a long day? Not here, that’s obvious.”

  What can I say? He’s right; I wasn’t here, but my friend almost died. Well, technically he did die. Does he not understand that? I sent him a text message earlier with what was going on.

  “You say you’re done with the Hellions, but your actions show differently.”

  “Tank flat lined,” I deadpanned. “He practically died… again.”

  “And… does Tank take care of you? Does Tank make you feel safe? No, Tank is in a coma when he should be in a coffin. You want that life? Do you? I’ll be second to no one, regardless of your blind obligation to him or that club. You want that, pack up; you know where the door is!” With that, he turns and leaves me in our room to cry into my pillow.

  What do I want? He’s right to some degree; he hasn’t been my priority.

  Time passes slowly. I am not sure how long I lie on my bed and slowly let out all the emotions I have bottled up. During that time, I make the decision to walk away from my old life. I make the decision to be with Nick and try to fit into his world. The reality is, I haven’t really made him a priority or truly tried. I have held back from him. I have held back from making the leap into the new life I so desperately want.

  When the door to our bedroom opens, Nick comes in. Climbing in bed beside me, I take in his red rimmed eyes that are filled with sadness, an emotion I put there. He really has given me everything I have asked for and more. And how have I repaid that? By making my priority sitting at the bedside of a man who has promised me nothing and may never wake up. No wonder Nick is ready to send me packing.

  Tentatively, he reaches out and strokes my cheek with his thumb. “I’m sorry, Savannah. I got frustrated and took it out on you. Forgive me?”

  “Nick, I’m sorry. You’re right about so much. I need to let go of a lot of things and people. I want this to work.” Leaning over, I kiss him softly. “You’re my home, my heart and my world now. The past is the past and my future is with you. I’m not going to go with Doll to Tennessee. I belong here with you.”

  His response shocks me, but reminds me he supports what I need in this transition. “She’s been your closest friend for how long now? Come on; you need this trip with her. I’m not saying I won’t miss you because I will, but maybe going away will help you clear your head. Let go of what’s holding you back, what’s holding us back. I shouldn’t have been so harsh earlier. I overreacted. I want so much more with you, Savannah, but I can’t give that to you until I know you’re ready to take us seriously.”

  “I miss her,” I whisper.

  “I know, and that’s why you need to go. Remember why you left that life behind though, Savannah. Stay safe. You take my heart with you everywhere you go, baby. Take care of it.”

  Smiling softly at him, I let him kiss me. Tenderly, his hand comes to the hem of my shirt. Always so soft, slow, kind and gentle; that’s Nick.

  Wrapping my arms around his neck, I run my fingers through his hair, pulling him to me to deepen our kiss. Taking my cue, he begins to lift my shirt as his hands graze my bra, causing slight flutters with the tease of his touch.

  I break our kiss then lean up and remove my shirt and pants, leaving me lying beside him in my blue lace bra and panties. Doll and I may have been raised around rough and tumble bikers, but we both love super feminine underwear.

  “You are so beautiful, Savannah,” Nick whispers as he kisses my neck.

  I arch under him, seeking more contact. He pulls me flush against him, always a considerate lover.

  I begin unbuttoning his shirt as he’s removing my bra. His head comes down, and he licks small circles over my nipple, teasing me as he moves one of his hands between my legs. His feather light touch is just enough to tickle the inside of my thighs as he reaches my panties, leisurely pulling them down. It’s a slow, delicious torture as he runs his hand over my mound.

  His middle finger parts my pussy lips with an easy touch, rubbing, smooth up and down strokes as I raise my hips seeking more. Inserting his finger, he traces a circle around the walls of my core rather than plunging in and out of me. It’s light, measured, unhurried and deliberate as he continues to move in this lingering pattern; slow in, circle around, drawn out withdrawal that ends with him rubbing the length of my pussy before entering me again. I rock into his hand, my body needing more, and yet, Nick is tenacious in keeping this slow tease to my body.

  “Please, Nick, I need more,” I beg in a whisper, knowing he doesn’t like a loud lover.

  He pulls away just enough to remove his clothing. Once he’s over me, he eases the tip of his cock, little bit by little bit, into me. If I were a virgin, he would be the sweetest, most understanding man ever. The thing is, I’m not a virgin. I take what I want. I am not a fragile doll that is going to break. I need more than the steady rhythm he is stuck in as he pulls almost all the way out then inch by inch works his way back inside me.

  When I raise up to match his thrusts, he pins my hips down under him, letting me know through his body language he is having no part of me topping from the bottom. A few thrusts later, his mild grunt lets me know his climax is building just before he pauses in me, releasing his warm seed.

  With Nick, it is always this controlled, continual routine. He never loses himself to the passion, to the want, to the desires of his body, or mine for that matter. Not that I should complain, but our love making is not driven in lust.

  He kisses me in the same kind manner in which he has just treasured my body before pulling out. Per our usual routine, he leaves to our bathroom, returning once he starts filling the Jacuzzi tub for me. Once I settle in the bubbles, he kisses my head as he leaves the room to watch TV.

  Laying my head back against the tub, I sigh in frustration. At first, his attentiveness to my body and cherishing what we share was a treat, something I have never experienced before. Even after, he is always taking care of me in this sweet manner. Hell, fuck me in the shower, don’t settle me in the tub to relax. My body is full of heat, unfulfilled desires, and he leaves me to relax after what he feels is a strong climax except he is the only one feeling that way, not me. No, I am left wanting, needing and craving something I will probably never have again.

  Running the washcloth over my breasts, I can’t help remembering the feel of Tank’s rough, calloused fingers twisting my nipples, setting my body on fire. I pull at the buds before my hand drifts lower, letting the memories flood me of his touch as he freely took what I gave him that night. I let my fingers roughly enter my core.

  Thinking of the one night I was able to share with Tank, I am quickly at the edge of release. Momentarily, I allow myself to believe the two fingers I have sliding in and out of me are his as he bent me over his bed in the duplexes, preparing me for his girth, picking up the pace of my fingers to match the raw, demanding pace that Tank took with me in our night together. I go over the edge as I remember the feeling of him when he pulled his fingers out and slammed himself into me. Tank wanted me that night and took me over the edge of oblivion. Although, I will never have an orgasm like the three I did with Tank, I have at least given myself relief for tonight.

  After I wash up, get out of the tub, and get dressed, Nick is still watching TV in the living room, so I can pack for my trip with Doll alone. I can’t face him right now. I don’t mean to use memories of Tank to get off. It’s wrong when I am with Nick. He deserves so much more than what I give
to him.

  After packing for my upcoming trip, I climb in bed and force myself to fall asleep before Nick retires for the evening. He may want a round two, and I am in no mood for that.

  ~Tank~

  “You’ll always have a piece of me. I’ll always love you, but I gotta move on. Goodbye, Tank,” she whispers softly.

  Her tone pulls at something deep within me. There is finality to her words. The bitter sting of goodbye stirs inside me, causing my mind to drift.

  How many times have Sass and I shared goodbye after goodbye? From the casual goodbyes of leaving work to the bigger ones that changed everything. The memory of our worst goodbye consumes me, bringing back the emotions and the pain.

  She’s in my arms, her body draped across mine. I have not slept one bit.

  We left the kitchen after the barbeque and came back to my room on the compound. I have one of the duplexes that really is all my own. My roommates are all married, so usually the place is empty except for me. With the charter clubs here, I have a few people staying over, but they don’t care that Sass is in my bed.

  Last night was nothing short of incredible. The hellcat likes it rough and everywhere. I lost count of the orgasms between us. Thinking of it, my dick is ready again. I am sure her pussy needs a break, though. Her ass, too.

  Reality hits me like a sledge hammer.

  I fucked my brother’s daughter. My boss’s daughter. I fucked one of the untouchable two.

  Worse, though, I fucked my friend. Never cross that line. There is no going back. I live my life with no regrets, the words tattooed across my lower stomach, reminding me and every female that goes low, there will be no regrets. Only now, I have gone too far. I don’t regret last night—it was the best damn night I have ever shared with someone—but it shouldn’t have happened.

  Looking at her red hair lying across my chest, the contrast against the colors of my tattoos, I don’t want to move. I don’t want this to end, but it must.

  Each breath she takes tickles my nipple piercing, reminding me of each bite and tug her mouth gave them mere hours ago. How can I go back to the way things were between us? Every time I see her I’m going to want nothing more than to be balls deep once again.

  Maybe with enough space, fresh air, and distance everything will go back to normal. Yeah, normal, that’s what I need.

  Smacking her ass playfully, I wake her up. Abruptly, I move out from under her, standing by the bed, watching as she takes in her surroundings and remembers last night.

  It’s time to make my clean escape. I make my way to my bathroom, calling out over my shoulder to her, “Time to say goodbye. Gather your stuff up. You found your way to my bed, you can find your way out the damn door.”

  I hear her muttering shit as she stomps around behind me.

  Shutting the bathroom door, I find my escape, finally. In an attempt to drown out the noise of her moving around, I start the shower. Yet, when I hear the door to the duplex slam, my heart sinks. Shit, I’ve fucked up big time now. Will things between us ever be the same again?

  Once I’m cleaned up and outside talking with Tripp, I see her and decide it’s time to test the waters.

  Stopping my idle chat with Tripp, I whistle at her and Doll as they clean up the lot from the barbeque.

  “Fuck you, Tank!” she yells over to us.

  “Oh, baby, you know you want to,” I call out to her, hoping we can resume the easy banter we have always shared.

  If the aggressive march in which she makes her way to me is any indication of her mood, I am as thoroughly fucked over as she was last night before she literally passed out in exhaustion over my body. Shit, this is not good.

  “Let me tell you something, Frank Thomas Oleander. I’ve fucked you once. I won’t fuck you twice. Take all those thoughts from your pea-sized brain and tell them to your pea-sized penis.”

  Well, at least she said Frank and not Franklin. That’s a good sign, right? She knows I don’t use Franklin, ever, so she’s not calling me out like my fuckin’ mom would. Yeah, I have hope… maybe.

  “Oh, baby, that sassy mouth. I know just how to shut you the fuck up. And last night, my dick sure as shit wasn’t pea-sized as you were begging for more. Talk your shit, but you know you want more. You know there’s gonna be more. That sassy ass is mine, Savannah. I know it, you know it; you just don’t wanna admit it. It’s all good, baby. No one else will match up to what I gave you.”

  Shit, fuck, damn it. Why do I let my mouth run without a filter?

  I run my hand through my hair in frustration. There can’t be more. Danza is going to beat the shit out of me, if he doesn’t kill me.

  “Keep dreaming, Tank. Badass biker. Fucking shithead. Controlling ass prick. You, my dad, and every other fucking Hellion here can kiss my ass. I’m done with this shit. Never. Again.”

  Never. Again.

  Never. Again.

  Her words are on repeat in my head, matching the beeping of the machine that is constantly sounding beside me somewhere. Never. Beep. Again. Beep. Never. Beep. Again.

  Why can’t I snap out of this? Never isn’t really never, is it?

  Never. Beep. Again. Beep.

  Chapter

  5

  Priorities

  ~Sass~

  Doll and I arrive in McMinnville, Tennessee with relative ease. It is such a simple trip this time in comparison to the last road trip I spent with my best friend. We’ve checked into our hotel. Our room is like any other with two queen size beds and a nightstand between them. There are crisp, white linens and ugly, green comforters I know will be as rough as the towels. Why do cheap hotels never use fabric softener to make the towels and blankets fluffy and soft against your skin?

  As we settle into our hotel room, relaxing in our pajamas, I can’t help feeling like we are teens again having a sleepover.

  “Sass, how are things… really?” Doll’s face is one of genuine concern, as if she sees right through me.

  “Good. Things are good.”

  “Cut the shit. This is me you’re talkin’ to. Damn it, Savannah. Look, I know you don’t wanna be an ol’ lady. I get it. I was at the funerals after the warehouse. I’ve seen Tank every single time I’ve come home. I know you’re scared, but there’s more to it than that. Something with you feels off. If you can’t be real with me, of all fuckin’ people, then what does that say for our friendship?” Her tone is now sharp but laced with a sadness I’ve not noticed previously.

  “Damn, don’t hold back or anything.”

  “Pffft… when have you ever known me to hold back?” We both laugh, knowing neither of us have ever been one to filter our thoughts or conversations.

  My phone ringing draws my attention away from her. “Hey, Nick, I was getting ready to call you.” Shit, I forgot to alert him of our arrival.

  “Savannah, it’s good to know you’re safe,” he replies stiffly. Uh-oh, I have messed up once again.

  “Sorry to worry you. Doll and I were catching up. I lost track of everything.”

  “Priorities, Savannah. It’s about priorities and where I stand,” he reminds coldly.

  “I’m sorry,” I whisper.

  “We’ve had this conversation, and I’m not big on repeating myself. Enjoy your time away and think about what you really want. Goodnight.” Without waiting for my response, he disconnects the call.

  Tears pool in my eyes. I am messing this up. Finally, I have an opportunity for something pure, sweet, honest and safe—a chance for something good—and I fuck up at every turn.

  Doll moves over to me and holds me while the tears begin to flow freely down my face.

  “I’m a mess,” I whimper.

  She pulls back, watching me intently. “Do you think maybe it’s because you’re forcing something that isn’t there?” Her question is sincere, genuine, and more importantly, something I ask myself continually.

  “He’s good to me. Really good. Nick takes care of me. His interest is in me, not the club, not my dad, and it
’s not about fuckin’ me, either. He makes me feel like I’m the only girl in the world and all that cliché bullshit.”

  “Cliché bullshit is something neither of us ever bought into before, Sass. Come on now, let’s be real. The ride is in your blood, your veins, and most of all, your heart. You’re tellin’ me you can give up the feel of a real man in front of you, a bike under you, and the open road before you? You can live without that? Because I couldn’t. Call me out if I’m wrong, but you don’t seem like you anymore. The woman in front of me is a broken shell of the Sass I know.”

  I pull away from her and start pacing the room. “Stop, okay? I want this. I want safe, sweet, real—and did I mention safe? Nick is good to me. He treats me like a queen, giving me the best of everything, like vacations with hotels that provide soft, fluffy towels and down comforters. Shit I’ve never had before. He’s real class and he loves me. Dyed hair, tattoos and all. He puts me first, not everything else.” I run my hands through my hair pulling slightly in frustration. I need her to see that this is what I want.

  “Can you understand my need to let go of the club? I’m not the Sass you knew because that’s the past. I’m on a journey to finding and becoming secure in Savannah Mae Perchton, not Sass, the Hellion princess. Can you support me in this?”

  With a sigh she gets up and pulls me back to the bed then hugs me, whispering, “I’m always on your side, no matter what.” She giggles against me. “Fluffy towels, down comforters, and all… Just, please, no white picket fence.”

  “Okay, enough of this shit. Let’s talk wedding.”

  The mood in the room immediately shifts. She pulls out a binder of notes, pictures, fabric swatches, and all the girlie, girlie wedding stuff I never imagined me or my very best friend having or wanting.