Dizzy: A Steel Bones Motorcycle Club Prequel

by Cate C. Wells

  “Leave Dalton.”

  His gaze returns to me, serious and intent.

  “Why’d you want to leave Dalton?”

  A rawness expands in my chest. I can’t name it, but it fills me up. God, I’ve been waiting for someone to ask me that question. So far, no one has. I didn’t give anyone the chance to ask when I left. I skedaddled before dawn one day when I was finally strong enough, and I figured they’d notice eventually. Or not. I didn’t owe any of them anything.

  Chaos was fixated on his own business. I was lucky he agreed to give me a ride. He didn’t ask me shit but for a blow job one night, and then he passed out before I had to come up with an answer.

  I never told the ladies at the clubhouse. I needed them for cover, so I kept it light. No one wants to hang out with a downer. And my story is a downer.

  But I’ve wanted to tell. I’ve wanted so bad for someone to care enough to ask.

  Dizzy’s body is tensing beside me every second I don’t speak. I think if there were a villain in my story, he’d go after him. I hold that thought tight, pack it away to take it out and admire it later.

  “The house I grew up in is like the old lady who lived in a shoe. Mama has six kids, and except for Robbie who left for Florida, all of us live at home. I mean, we’ve all moved out at some point, but shit falls through. And Mama’s house is big. She got it from my Gram when she passed. I’ve got—”

  I take a second to make sure my counts right. Folks are always coming and going.

  “Three nephews and four nieces who live with us. Dee’s oldest lives with her baby daddy’s parents, and Carol’s oldest moved in with her boyfriend.”

  I pause for breath. Dizzy’s following. Listening. It’s heady, having this huge, scary man hanging on my every word.

  “So it’s crowded. Hectic. Everyone doubles up. Or triples up.”

  “You wanted space.” It’s a question.

  I shake my head. “I was accustomed to it. I don’t . . . didn’t know another way.” Not until the week camping alone under the stars. Now that I’m forgetting what it feels like to freeze to death, it might be one of my top memories of all time.

  “Anyway, we have a shed out back. No windows. It’s made of corrugated metal on a concrete slab. We keep the push mower in it, busted bikes, stuff like that. There’s a padlock on the door ‘cause of the mower.”

  Dizzy’s jaw tics under his beard. If I were any further from him, I wouldn’t be able to tell. I love that tic. I barely resist reaching out and touching it. To make sure it’s real. But I got to get this out.

  “Kayden’s boy needed a tire for a secondhand 10-speed a neighbor gave him. I thought there was one on Dee’s old bike. I went to check the shed. I was in the back, rummaging behind some boxes. Someone didn’t realize I was in there and locked the door. By the time I hollered, they were gone.”

  Dizzy sucks in a breath.

  “No one noticed I was gone for over two days. It was September. There was a heat wave. I almost died from dehydration.”

  “Fuck.” He tugs me so I’m sitting on his lap, so he can hold me. The ladies across the playground recoil.

  I see what he means. I don’t care what they think. I like where I am, these steady arms, the heat of this solid chest.

  “I was missing for fifty-three hours. I was in what the doctors called hypovolemic shock when they found me. They had to call an ambulance and everything.”

  A thought occurs to me. “That bill’s gonna be a doozy. Gonna be tough for them to collect.” I smile, bitter. “They were real nice at the hospital. The paramedics were dicks, though. They thought I had OD’d out there. No one has much patience for junkies anymore in Dalton.”

  Dizzy’s grip tightens. His arms are so strong. He could’ve gotten out of that shed. I hold up a hand, examine my fingers. I ripped out most of my nails trying to claw my way out. I couldn’t get the metal to give an inch.

  “I took care of all those kids. Their boyfriend’s kids even. I made food. Patched up boo boos. Washed clothes. Tied shoes. I shared a goddamn room with Keira. She slept like a baby, didn’t even ask where I was. No one noticed I was gone for more than two days. They only found me ‘cause my nephew got sick of waitin’ for me to show up with a tire and came lookin’ for one himself.”

  “Jesus Christ.”

  “Yeah. As soon as I was discharged and I got my strength back, I left.”

  “I’m so fuckin’ sorry, baby.”

  And he’s not just saying that. He’s so stiff his biceps are twitching. I glance up at him. His expression is stern like he gets when he’s had words with the boys. Like he’s hiding what he’s feeling in order to take care of business.

  I cuddle closer, breathe in the smell of oil and a hint of the hot sauce he put on his sandwich at lunch.

  I love this man.

  I don’t care if it’s too soon, and he’s too old, and I’m on thin ice with his club. I know my mind.

  “I hear what you’re sayin’ about folks moving in different directions, and I’m sure that’s true and all for them, but that’s not how I see things,” I say.

  “No?”

  “Nope. I almost died alone in a hot metal box. I know what matters.”

  “What is that?”

  “That someone will come looking for you if you’re missing.”

  He growls. Literally growls. “You deserve more than just that.”

  That’s such a huge idea that I don’t have room for it in my head. I wrestle free from his gorilla arms and hop up. “Anything more than that is gravy.”

  I smile as big as I can ‘cause I can’t stand the sadness in his brown eyes. And then I sprint off toward Carson. I’m gonna show that boy how to climb a rock wall. He’s goin’ about it all wrong.

  The sun is way high overhead. It’s the very last minutes of a fall afternoon when every squeak and shout echoes in the brisk air. Breathing is easy.

  Dizzy’s right. Who cares about the ladies clucking their tongues and scrolling through their phones, pretending not to watch everything we do?

  It’s a beautiful day. I’m alive, fed, and warm.

  I clamber up beside Carson, and I chase him across a swinging bridge. We shriek and laugh, and Parker can’t help but join in the fun.

  Dizzy sits on the bench, dark eyes hooded, keeping watch on the three of us, the scary, wild-haired biker who thinks I deserve more.

  My man.

  After the playground, we came home. I was gonna make myself useful, but Dizzy told me get on the sofa. He ordered subs, and all four of us watched an old western from the 60s until the boys fell asleep.

  I don’t know how the guys told the actors apart, and the plot meandered worse than In the Arms of Love, but I like horses, and Parker poked fun at the hokey dialogue under his breath the whole time, cracking me up.

  When we went to bed, Dizzy fucked me real slow and thorough. No kinky stuff. It was still good.

  The next day was even better. We spent the morning in the garage. Parker showed me how to replace brake pads, and we dropped off one he finished to some folks who live down on the flat. Then we visited Boots, an old-timer from the club, and went fishing off his pier.

  And now it’s Monday, and it’s a bit of a downer.

  After Dizzy took the boys to school, he disappeared into the garage. I cleaned up breakfast, started a load of laundry, and took the opportunity to add a few cans of soup to my food stash in the back of Dizzy’s closet. I know I don’t need it, but I like having it. Just in case.

  Anyway, all that took less than an hour, and then I was bored. I watched game shows for a while, but I was restless.

  I’m used to constant noise, constant demands. I hated it, but I’m accustomed to a hustle and bustle, and I can’t get used to the quiet. My nerves get jangly as hell.

  I was all excited to make Dizzy lunch, but he beat me to it. He’d scarfed down some leftover Chinese and was wiping the crumbs from his beard by the time I made my way upstairs from folding a load o
f sheets.

  “I was gonna make you lunch.” I pause in the doorway, lean on the frame, and pout.

  “Don’t have time. I got to get this done before I pick the kids up from school.”

  “I thought they were at their mother’s this week?”

  “She called. Her boss asked her to do some prep work for that big job she’s got coming up. She asked me to take ‘em for the rest of this week.”

  Good. The house could use their background noise. It’s too creepy without it. And I’m getting really bored.

  “Can I watch you work?”

  Dizzy finally gives me his full attention. He was gulping down a glass of tap water.

  “You’d be bored.”

  “I’m already bored.”

  He studies my face. I don’t know what he’s looking for. He should be able to tell from the way I organized the mugs on the counter from biggest to smallest that I’m tellin’ the truth.

  “You can’t. I’m workin’ on a new mod.”

  “And what? It’s top secret?”

  He stares at me evenly. “Why don’t you watch TV?”

  “I already watched TV.”

  “Did you run out?”

  “I want to watch you work.”

  He raises his brows. “No.”

  Then, he sets his glass on the counter next to the empty Chinese cartons and heads for the door. The sink’s an inch to the right. The trash can’s right under the counter, for that matter.

  He slides open the door.

  “You just gonna leave your trash on the counter for me to clean up?”

  Oh, my Lord. I sound like my mother. I don’t even really care. “Are your arms broke or just your manners?”

  Dizzy stops mid-step and turns back to me and cocks his head.

  “I said it.” I suck my cheek and raise my eyebrows right back.

  And he grins so wide, I can see his back teeth. He eyes the clock and shrugs a shoulder. “I guess I got a few minutes, naughty girl.”

  And then he starts for me. Oh.

  Shit.

  I bolt, shrieking. Down the stairs, out the front door, around the house. I haven’t totally lost my mind. I don’t want him to catch me in the middle of the road and have the neighbors call the cops. Houses are spread out here in the country, but sound carries.

  He catches me on the deck stairs in the back of the house. I have a half-formed plan to get back inside and lock him out, but he grabs me mid-step. My legs flail.

  “Let me down!”

  Instead, he holds me tight to his chest and bends forward until my boobs are pressed against the wood stairs.

  “You asked for it, baby.” All I can see are the utility tubs under the deck through the gap between stairs, but I can tell he’s fiddling with his belt.

  Uh, oh. I don’t know if I’m ready for this yet. We looked at it together on his phone, and it turned me on, but I don’t know if I want this in reality.

  It’s not like me to start shit I can’t finish, though.

  Should I say banana falafel?

  But then I wouldn’t know what’s gonna happen.

  He must feel the fight leave my body. He rises, no longer pinning me down with his chest.

  “Hold on to the steps, naughty girl.” He cracks his belt. Blood surges to my pussy, making me swollen and needy. I whimper, and I grab the edge of the step, screwing my eyes shut. If it’s too bad, I can safe word. Or say stop. He will. I’ve tested him.

  He stands tall, tugging my yoga pants down to trap my ankles. I’m wearing a new pair, black with a teal stripe down the side, and a matching crop top with three-quarter sleeves. It was fine for the house, but outside in November, my bare midriff is puckered with goose bumps. The rest of me is, too. My spine and scalp are tingling, the hairs prickling on the back of my neck.

  This is gonna hurt. I can’t wait.

  He rubs my ass, one cheek and then the other. Then he slaps them experimentally. It hardly stings. It’s a warm up. I moan.

  He slips his rough fingers into my slit. I’m sopping wet. He gathers my cream and strokes down my bare thighs, sending shivers dancing across my skin.

  “Are you allowed to tell me what to do, naughty girl?” He trails his belt, whisper soft, up my thighs along the trail he just traced.

  “No,” I answer, breathless. I can’t help but arch my back, bare my throbbing pussy to him. I’m so turned on. The anticipation stretches, plays on my body like a physical touch.

  He spanks me a few times, and I let myself cry out. “It hurts!”

  “It’s gonna hurt worse,” he growls, his hand roaming, slipping through my juices, teasing my clit, and then petting my ass before he swats me a few more times. “You’ve been bad, haven’t you?”

  “Yes,” I moan.

  “You’re sorry, aren’t you?”

  “Yes,” I pant.

  “You’re gonna count. If I don’t hear you, you’re gonna get it again. If you move your hands, you’re gonna get more. Understand?”

  “Yes.” I want him to do it. I need him to do it. I know it’s gonna hurt, but I’ll explode if he doesn’t.

  Crack. The leather swishes through the air. I yelp. It burns. A sharper pain than his hand, but not too bad. I can take it. He’s definitely holding way back.

  The air whistles again. Crack. I shriek. That one had a little more bite.

  “I said count baby. How many times are you gonna get number one?”

  “One!” I holler.

  He chuckles, dark and low. His fingers stroke a line down my ass. He’s admiring his handiwork.

  And then there’s a whoosh as he swings his arm, and a line of fire crosses both cheeks. I clench. “Two!” I gasp.

  “Three more. Unclench your ass.”

  “I can’t.” I’m still trying to catch my breath from the last one.

  “Don’t tell me no. That’s two more.” He lays the belt on me again and again.

  “Three. Four. Five.” I’m squirming now, dipping my hips to avoid the blows, but it’s useless. Pain blossoms, searing, rushing my brain and drowning out everything but this moment. I squeeze the stairs with all my strength. “Six. Seven.”

  And I collapse, sobbing, the wood rough on my cheek. I can’t keep my hips raised anymore. I’m done in and floating away. But then strong hands lift me, hold me up, and Dizzy slams his hard, bare cock into me as his fingers find my clit. I kick off my pants so I can spread wide for him. Oh, Lord, he’s so hot, he’s thrusting so hard, he’s so much to take.

  I’m a ragdoll. My ass is on fire, but my hungry pussy feels so good. He’s groaning louder, and he’s hotter, closer than ever before, and—oh, fuck.

  The condom.

  I mumble, meaning to remind him, but I can’t find my words. He props me upright and drills me, forcing deep inside me, stretching me, making me take all of him.

  “That’s right, naughty girl. Take this cock.” He pounds me, and I can’t worry. I don’t remember how. All I can do is go along for the ride. He’ll make sure it’s okay.

  I’m coming before I realize it, shaking, crying out, and then another wave crashes over me, and I’m coming again, harder, and it keeps going and going as Dizzy drives into me, faster and faster, and then he pulls out and cums in hot spurts up my back.

  I dangle in his arms, boneless.

  He’s breathing hard, but his muscles aren’t quivering at all, and his grip is strong and sure.

  He presses a kiss to my temple. “We need to get you on the pill.”

  I nod my head, gasping down air. Damn straight. “No babies.”

  “We’ll get you to the doctor. I’ll make the call.” He sets me gently on my feet and trails his fingers over my burning ass. He groans in appreciation. “You okay?”

  I crane my neck, check out the damage. It hurts worse than the spanking, for sure, but it’s a bearable pain. Mostly stinging. The stripes from the belt are hot, the skin raised and pink.

  “You didn’t break the skin.”

  “Nah
. It’s an old belt. Worn edges.”

  We both stare at my ass, him stroking alongside the raised welts.

  “Kind of wild,” he says.

  “Yeah.”

  I shake my head clear and try to bend over to tug up my pants, but I’m too wobbly. He helps me out, easing my panties over my sore ass. The pants are too rough, so I kick them off. He scoops them up, and then turns me, wrapping me in his arms and peppering my face with kisses. His beard tickles. I wriggle, and he holds me closer, trapping my palms against his chest.

  There’s a sharp twinge. “Ouch.” Oh, damn. I have a splinter in the mound of my thumb from holding onto the stair. It’s bleeding. Dizzy notices it the same time I do. His dopey smile disappears.

  “Damn it.”

  He lifts me into his arms and carries me up the stairs as if it’s nothing. I squeal, but I don’t fight him. I don’t think my brain’s reconnected to my legs, yet. I’m lost in this yummy, hazy fog. My limbs are weak, and I’m yawning.

  It’s like when you spend a whole day at the river, swimming, and then you lay out in the sun. That kind of perfect peace and exhaustion.

  When we get to the kitchen, Dizzy leans me against the counter. Thank goodness he doesn’t set me on it. My ass would not take kindly to granite right now. He takes out his trusty first aid kit, removes the splinter, pours some hydrogen peroxide over it, and slaps a bandage on. I get the purple convertible this time.

  When he’s done, he nips the tip of my index finger and then kisses it. I giggle. I’m as content as I’ve ever been, and the unsettled feeling from the morning is gone.

  He pours me some tap water. “Drink.”

  I hate room temperature water, but my mouth is dry. I chug, and he refills the glass.

  “You want to take a nap or watch TV?”

  “TV.”

  He carries me downstairs, knocks some action figures off the sofa, and sets me down. I curl up on my side. Actually, I’m probably gonna take a nap.

  He covers me with a camouflage comforter.

  “After I get the boys from school, we can go somewhere. I’ll be done with work by then.”

  “Why can’t I watch you?” I mumble though a yawn, although I’m no longer interested.