“I never said that.” Her one eye starts to twitch and she’s taking in small gasps of air. Again, I feel myself softening. It’s hard to hate someone you’ve spent your whole life loving. It’s also a fucking nightmare not to grab her and fuck her right in this parking lot. She’s my obsession. Even knowing she’s bad, unhealthy, her cunt calls to me.
“Edge?” I blink at her. “I have to call Doug. He’ll worry or do something drastic.” And there goes my moment. Rage trickles through my blood like water that’s starting to boil. She’s not screaming, only stating a fact. Her clothes, makeup, and hair make me grind my teeth.
“Are you a whore?” She pales and tries to hop off. I grab her, easily stopping her so that our faces are inches apart. It’s a mistake because in an instant, her unique candy smell sinks into me.
“You don’t have to be ashamed. Like mother like dau—” And she moves to slap me, her small hand connecting with my cheek.
She’s not strong enough to do any damage and I smile. Dolly has no idea what I’ve become.
“You need to be careful, Dolly.” I grab her hand and place it on my hard cock. She looks almost stunned. “That kind of play turns me on.”
“What’s happened to you?” she whispers.
I let go of her hand so I can cage her in. As she leans back, she has no choice but to grab on to me.
“Prison.”
If I had slapped her, I think she would have liked it better. She shakes her head and her bourbon eyes blink back tears. As I straighten, we stare at each other and I smile. She puffs out some air, and I reach into my back pocket for my phone.
“Call your boyfriend and tell him you’re alive. If he calls the police, tell him I’ll put a bullet in the bartender’s head.” She stares at me but takes the phone.
I pull out my cigarettes and half listen to Dolly trying to reason with the skinny self-righteous prick. Looking up at the dark sky, I let the nicotine calm me down. The sound of laughter and conversation brings my attention to the parking lot.
A bunch of loud drunks get out of an SUV. But what catches my attention is a couple maybe a few years older than Dolly and me walking by with hands locked and smiles on their faces as they laugh and kiss.
It’s not like this is unusual, seeing happy couples. Maybe it’s because she’s next to me. But a surge of anger, even regret pours out of me. What would that have been like? To have Dolly laughing at me, holding my hand… being happy.
I look down at my dark boots. I’ll never have it. That’s not the kind of man I am anymore. So, wondering what we could have been is pointless.
I take a long inhale of the cancer stick, flick it onto the pavement, and step on it.
She’s got her back to me as she talks in fast, hushed tones. Fucking Dolly. She never disappoints. She can always be counted on to stir up all kinds of crap. That never should have happened. I’m stronger than that. Women mean nothing, especially her.
You’d think I’d learn. Christ, I went to jail for her. And she never once came to see me.
Carried on like it never happened while I rotted away for a year and a half. Eyeing her from behind, I notice her dress is so low cut in the back I can see the crack of her ass.
She’s a whore and I’m an ex-con—we’re a perfect fucking tornado. “Say goodbye.” At my interruption, she jumps and twirls around holding up a finger.
“Now.” This time she does obey. I move my hard erection to the other side of my jeans.
Power.
I need it. Better than any drug. It’s a thing with me, maybe because I was locked up. But I think this goes back years ago. My old man took it away when I was a child and now as an adult, I get it back. And Dolly, deep inside, was born to submit. She wants to fight her nature, but I know her. She might be a whore, but she’ll be my whore until I’m done.
“I have to go. I’ll call you later. Here.” She dumps the phone into my hand causing both of us to pull back at the electric shock between us.
My eyes narrow on her as I wait to see her next move. Biting her bottom red lip, she leans down to slip on her red pump, then straightens to her five-feet-five inches with heels.
She clears her throat. “I have things I need to say. And with your behavior, it’s obvious you do too. Maybe we should go get a cup of coffee and talk.”
I snort.
She looks up at me and frowns. “What? Is this funny to you?”
I reach for my helmet and place it on her head. “You still remember how to ride a bike?”
“Of course,” she snips as she swings her legs and seats herself on the bike like a little queen sitting on her prized stallion. She tries to pull her dress down. With the mood I’m in, I should leave her ass on the fucking pavement.
Instead, I get on and reach behind me, holding on to her thigh with one hand to make sure she’s steady and using the other to start up my bike. It rumbles to life and I peel out. Dolly leans forward with me, completely in sync. And it’s like the year and a half never happened. We’re back to being free, with nothing but the vibrations of the bike and our bodies moving together.
EDGE
Eighteen years old
I pull into the parking lot of the Viceroy in Beverly Hills. It’s close and trendy. I was tempted to take her to a crappy hotel in Hollywood, but I’ve lost all taste for shitholes. It seems like my whole life it’s been one after another. Now it doesn’t have to be.
“I said coffee.” Dolly jerks the helmet off and looks around.
“Shhh.” I grab her hand before she can run. I see it in her eyes; she’s losing the battle with me. Her red lips look more swollen than usual. She’s been biting her bottom lip trying not to cry.
Ignoring all her ramblings, because Dolly tends to do this when she gets scared or nervous, I drag her into the white marble lobby. We saunter up to the front desk.
Mirrored walls, a huge number of white orchids, and a sparkling chandelier make the place look expensive. I can’t help but smirk at our reflection. There’s mascara smudged under both Dolly’s eyes and her dress is wrinkled from the ride. I’m in my dark ripped jeans and Disciples cut.
I slap my hand down on the white marble counter causing the front desk clerk to jump. “I need a room.”
“Edge, what are you doing? I said coffee.” Her body slinks into mine as she whispers it. I know the reason she’s getting close to me is to have me protect her, shield her from the judgments of others. It’s clear she hasn’t gotten over her self-doubt or insecurities. In her mind, I’m sure we’re somehow inferior.
The idiot desk clerk looks straight at her tits. He couldn’t care less what we look like. All he sees is a fantastic rack. Fuck, he probably thinks I’m a rock star.
I’m getting pissed though. This irrational feeling of going all Neanderthal on anyone who looks at Dolly could be a problem.
“Absolutely. For how many nights?” He breaks his stare to look at me.
“One.” I look down at her. “Maybe two.”
The clerk nods and types. “King bed?”
“Yeah and send up some coffee.” I wink, and her face gets even pinker.
“Of course, we can do that.” He continues to type. I hand him my card and he puts the charge through. Grabbing the decorative pamphlet that holds the key card, I drag Dolly up to the room.
“This is insane. How do you have money?” She fires off one question after the other. Dolly hates anything that puts her at a disadvantage.
“Wait.” She tries to pull her hand away. “Is this drug money? Because if it is, I’m leaving.” She says all this at my back.
“Shut up, Dolly.” I insert the key card and wait for the green light to appear. Entering, I propel her forward. She whirls and looks around the room.
Tossing the key on the white desk, I go straight to the mini fridge.
“Here, have a bottle.” I throw a mini bottle of Jose Cuervo at her. Eyes wide, she catches it.
The room is large with white and gold lamé everywhere. French
doors open to a small balcony with a view of Los Angeles and her blinking lights at night. The walls, couch, and puffy headboard all have a silver and gold silk pattern. I would have laughed at all these things two years ago. Never in a million years did I think I would notice this stuff, but I do and I’m grateful.
I throw myself on the satin couch. Lifting up to get my cigarettes and phone from my pocket, I toss them onto the glass table.
She stares at me, the bottle clutched to her chest, her rapid breathing drawing my eyes to her hard nipples.
“Sit down, Dolly.”
Her eyes narrow on my face. “Okay.” She sits on the end, as far away from me as possible. “How do you have money to pay for a room like this?” She motions with her hands causing her tits to jiggle.
“My dad put a bullet in his head and left me the house.”
She must not have expected that honesty because she slumps back.
“Really?” She gulps. “I’d like to say I’m sorry he’s gone but…”
“Yeah.” I laugh and unscrew my bottle giving her a silent toast as I down it. “I felt the same way.”
I roll my neck letting the sting burn its way down my throat. “He was a piece of shit but did me a favor in the end.”
She nods and shoots the whole bottle, her eyes watering. “Agreed.” She waves a hand in front of her mouth. “I thought he was way too mean for that.”
I prop my feet on the table. “Well, he was dying. Let’s not act like he had a change of heart all of a sudden.”
Our eyes lock. Maybe it’s the tequila, maybe it’s us. But right now, all I want is to lose myself in her. Not think about the past, future… only us.
A loud knock makes Dolly jump and the spell is broken. “That’s room service with your coffee.” I motion to the door.
“Yes.” Her voice is raspy and my cock hardens. I have to shift it so as not to scare the bell boy.
“Thanks, man.” I hand him a fifty and take the silver tray from him.
“Nice. Let me know if you need anything.” He nods and pockets the money.
“Do me a favor and put the Do Not Disturb sign on the handle.”
“You got it.” He barely gets his hand off the door when I kick it shut.
Dolly sits with one hand on the end of the couch, her beautiful legs crossed. She wants to talk but I don’t need any of her confessions and she sure as shit doesn’t need mine.
“Here, coffee.” I go to the fridge again and grab a couple bottles of Jack, crack the seal, and dump some in her coffee cup.
“Edge, come on, you know I hate Jack Daniels. Whatever.” She crosses her arms, closing herself off from me.
Suddenly I’m drained. I don’t want to fight her. I don’t even know if I want to fuck her. No, my cock is hard and my balls ache. I want to fuck her. Which sucks because she’s nothing but bad luck, a black widow waiting for me. But I need her near me if only to remind me never to get too close again.
My eyes narrow on her as I take a swig of the Jack letting the alcohol trick my brain into thinking my world is better.
Her leg is bouncing, and she jumps up reaching for the pack of cigarettes on the table.
“I’m going to smoke.” She opens the French doors and steps out onto the balcony. The dark night and LA’s twinkling lights make me stop and admire her for a moment.
“I didn’t know you started smoking.” She takes a deep drag and looks over her shoulder at me. Her bourbon eyes sweep my body as I reach up to rest my hands on the balcony door.
Her face pinkens as she looks down at the cigarette. Inhaling, she blows the smoke up to the sky. “There’s a lot you don’t know about me.”
“I doubt it.” I walk out, invading her space. She steps back and holds up her chin as if daring me to come closer.
I do. Close enough to know she’s dangerous for me. I can smell her, fucking vanilla and caramel. I take the cigarette from her hand.
She grabs a hold of the white ornate railing. The wind blows her hair off her neck and the palm trees sway behind her. It would be almost perfect if we didn’t hate each other.
She swallows as she watches me. Our eyes lock. I take one more drag and hold the cigarette out for her to share.
“How long have you been out?” she says slowly as if she feels the same thing, that pull between us.
“Three months.”
A small cough escapes her lips. What did she think, that I would run after her? Beg her to love me after she let me go to jail for her yet failed to visit?
She shakes her head and lifts her face to the sky. The light from the room and the cigarette cast a glow in the darkness.
“What happened to your neck?” I lean forward, wrapping my hand around the back of her head. I tilt it so I can see her better. She reaches up to cover it and squirms as if trying to escape.
“Who did this to you?” I demand. “Answer me.” I shake her.
“Edge…” She gasps, making a simple hold seem like a python is wrapped around her neck.
“Please.” She twists, digging her nails into my chest. “I can’t… please.” She blinks up at me in terror.
“What the fuck?” I let her go gently.
“I…” She grabs at her neck backing away. “I… I can’t breathe.” In full panic mode, she gasps in and out.
“Dolly.”
Her eyes jolt to mine. I flick the cigarette over the balcony and reach for her.
She holds up her hands as if I’m going to hit her.
“Stop.”
“Edge, I can’t breathe.” She looks at me, her huge brown eyes pleading.
“Christ, Dolly.” I grab her, scoop her up, and sit on the bed. “You can breathe. In and out.” As I place my lips on her forehead, she lets me guide her, though her body’s shaking a little. “That’s it, baby, deep breaths.”
Her nose goes into my neck. We all have a weakness—the one thing we want more than anything. I thought I was done with mine. She kicks off her heels to curl up tighter in my arms. As she calms, I stop thinking for a moment and kiss her damp eyes and cheeks, telling her she’s okay.
“I’m not crazy.” She sniffles. I want to say that’s not true, that her crazy was always something I loved, needed. I close my eyes and steady my heart. This is what she does. She’s like a witch who cast a spell on me as a child, and I still can’t seem to resist her.
I have to get away from her before I do something fucked up like forgive her. I shift her to the bed and stand running my hands up and down my face.
Goddamn her… fucking Dolly.
“I’m not,” she mumbles as she curls up into a ball on the bed, her silver dress hardly covering her ass.
“Get some rest,” I growl, dropping my hands. I hate feeling like this. I should turn her over and fuck her, get it over with so we both can move on and close our chapter forever.
But I won’t. She’s like a ticking time bomb. The past. It hasn’t been kind to us. She’s fucked up; I’m fucked up. She’s drunk, and I need to get drunk. Maybe I can pass out.
I have a goal, one goal: to get patched in soon. I’m ready, paid my dues, did everything for my club. Chuckie’s president and starting to make changes. It takes at least two to three years to become a brother, but a few have done it faster and I plan on joining them. The time is now. A lot of Chuckie’s old man’s lieutenants are stepping down, so he can form his own team.
Dolly rolls over and hiccups. She fucks with my head. Even when she didn’t come to visit me, I still dreamed about her. I loved her through it all because that is who I am.
Tugging off my T-shirt, I make my way to the fridge and down two bottles of Jack Daniels. I pull off my boots, toss them, and they land with a thud, followed by my jeans.
As I get under the sheets, she mumbles. Closing my eyes, I breathe and count to ten before turning to look at her.
Christ, she’s a disaster, and that’s saying something since I grew up with some real broken wings. Her eye makeup has smudged down to her right
cheek. Her short black hair’s a mess. A small strand has attached itself to her cheek from all her crying. I take my hand and brush it away, which is a mistake but fuck it.
“Get under the covers.” It comes out harsh. She must be drunk. Her eyes pop open and, with one smile, she takes my heart—fucking takes it back and crawls in next to me.
She murmurs something about us and says my name, then snuggles into my arms.
“Goddamn it.” Turning on my back, I bring her with me. Her dress is scratchy and she rubs her nose in my neck, her breasts burning into my chest as her addictive Dolly smell makes me pull her closer.
Edge and Dolly…
I should push her away. But I should’ve done a lot of things differently in my life. Starting with ignoring her at the club.
Tomorrow, I’ll get rid of her.
DOLLY
Eighteen years old
I wake to the most wonderful smell. Cinnamon, maybe some spice, and a bit of smoke fill my senses and I smile and snuggle deeper under the covers. I love this smell and I love who it belongs to. I melt into his warmth. His hard body is next to mine and I’m happy.
3,2,1.
My eyes pop open and I try not to scream and wake him as everything crashes down on me.
“Jesus,” I groan. Easing my way up to sitting, I look around the incredible hotel room. The morning sun spills in through the open balcony doors. Palm trees and the Hollywood Hills greet me.
I glance down at Edge and my heart does a painful thud. No fucking joke, he has the best body I’ve ever seen. I wonder if all he did in jail was work out because he is ripped. His arms are covered in mostly black but also some colorful tattoos, and I want to trace them, explore them all. Some are old, but a lot are new.
I have to pee and maybe puke if the way my head is spinning is any indication. It must be because I drank on an empty stomach and not because I see a Chinese dragon on his hip. How fucking low does the dragon go? I’d have to pull the sheet down, and even though he sleeps like the dead, his dick seems to wake up early since it’s tenting the sheet.
For a second, I let last night trickle into my brain, and I want to either laugh or cry because what the hell?
Repent (The Disciples Book 3) Page 13