Sure, I can bring home an easy piece of pussy to fuck, but it doesn’t mean shit if I don’t want her to stay. And it has been a long ass motherfuckin’ time since I’ve wanted a bitch to spend the night. I get my kicks and send them packing. I’m not looking for a whore eager to land a patched man. I could have my pick of them, they are as abundant as crabs in a poor man’s whorehouse.
I want a real woman, a good woman.
Inside, my trailer still holds remnants of when Rumor lived here as Rebel’s wife. The floral pictures she hung in the living room still decorate the walls in the golden frames. Some Home Interior shit she bought at a yard sale. I remember how proud she was when she purchased them. Me and Truth carried all of her finds of the day in for her.
Some nights, I swear I can hear the ghost of her walking through the walls looking for Rebel. And other nights, I could swear I see Baby’s red hair blowing in the breeze. Rumor and me dated briefly, she was too good a girl for me. She wasn’t able to handle a man like me.
I have a hungry sexual appetite, always needing to be filled. I wonder had I been different with her when I had her, could I have made her happy? I guess I’ll never know. I even fucked around with her little sister, Baby on occasion, but her blood was too wild even for me, and fuck, if Grim isn’t a scary motherfucker. I left her alone long before I could get caught. I think about her sometimes and wonder if I could have made a play for her? But deep down I know we never would have worked. And that girl had it bad for Striker.
I could see the love they felt for each other long before either of them ever recognized it or acted on it. I used to watch them fight just so they could fuck to make-up. I get trapped by memories of the past more often than I’d like.
Then I remember what year it is, and where I am, and all that has come to pass. If I keep looking back, I’ll never move forward. I can’t go back and yet I don’t know who or what I am looking for. What if my chance at settling down has already came and went like dust in the wind?
I lay my head back on my pillow thinking about the shoulda, coulda, wouldas.
I shoulda fought for Liberty.
I coulda begged her to stay.
I woulda made her listen.
I kick off my boots and they fall to the floor with a heavy thump. The sound echoes through my trailer, reminding me just how alone I really am. Reminding me that I let Libby go.
I just wanted her to fight for me but I couldn’t even fight for us. I was so damn hardheaded. Thought I knew everything. But now, I realize I don’t know anything. When it comes to women and relationships—I might as well be blind.
Sleep takes me with Liberty on my mind. I toss and turn remembering the way she smelled like cinnamon and vanilla. I can still remember the way her dark hair fell between my fingers; it was soft like crushed velvet in my palm when I would pull on it during sex.
She was my dirty girl who liked to get down.
She was my undoing.
She gave me a reason to believe I was worthy and then she left me.
I promised her she was safe with me.
I promised no one would hurt her.
Watching that bitch, Diamond, get her head splattered by Foxie changed her trust in me.
She stopped believing in what we could have.
I stopped believing in us too.
Long lost promises whisper in my ear as I replay the day she left me in my dreams.
I let her go.
Liberty’s voice is hauntingly beautiful as I am taken back to six years ago. “I love you Tread. I always will, but there is no place for me here, in your world. I can’t stay here and wait for the day I fuck up, or the day someone uses me against you. I can’t. I won’t be that girl. I won’t end up like Diamond.”
“Is that how you really see us? Is this how you really feel?” I watch the tears stream down her face unable to stop them.
Unable to do a damn thing to change her mind.
Unable to make myself say the words, ‘don’t go. I want you to stay.’
I needed her to stay.
I wanted her to stay and fight.
I wanted her to force my hand. To make me be a man and make her mine before my brothers and before God.
I was a coward.
I was a fool.
“Don’t go, I want you to stay,” I whisper into the haunted skies of the approaching dawn, but it’s too late, six years too late to be exact.
Truth
My eyes are on Tread as Amy sucks his cock, wishing my lips were on him instead. I know he will never see me the way I see him. I have been in love with my best friend for years and he will never know it. But I don’t mind it really, when we are together like this. Sharing a woman between us, it brings me closer to him. And if this is as close as I can get, I’ll take it.
I never meant for this to happen.
My caring for him.
My longing for him.
We shared one night together. A night he doesn’t remember, a night I will never forget.
However, don’t get my shit twisted, I appreciate a woman just as much as I do a man, but when he is in the room all else ceases to exist, other than Amy. Watching Tread get off is fucking poetry. His jaw clenches, hiding his dimples, as his green eyes close. Tread’s head falls back against the couch, his brown shaggy hair sweeps across his face. I glide my cock in and out of Amy’s tight cunt, pretending she isn’t separating me from what I desire. I try to ignore Tread and give my all to Amy.
Fast is what Tread refers to Amy as. I call her Peaches; she always smells like a juicy peach that I am ready to gobble up. I continue my assault on her juicy cunt as my balls smack against her bubbly ass.
Amy is a damn good woman. I’ve thought of making her mine for some time now, but there is always that thought of what if—of Tread. But deep down I know it is only a fantasy. Tread isn’t really attracted to me. I know we will never happen, other than the one night I had him in my mouth. He made that all too clear when he left without a word.
His leg brushes against my arm that is supporting me and I nearly topple over from the sensation of the contact.
I close my eyes when he leaves the room.
I hate to watch him go.
He never stays while I finish.
He never stays for the night.
“God, YES!” Amy pushes back against my dick, grinding against my hips, as I continue to please her, rubbing over her throbbing bundle of nerves with my finger.
My head lolls against Amy’s shoulder and she giggles from the friction of my beard scratching her ticklish skin. I pull out and tell her to get on the couch. She shakes her head “NO,” wanting me to beg. I nod my head in return. She knows she always gives in and I always have gotten my way with her.
She can’t deny me.
She won’t.
Shoving her down on the couch, I allow my mind and my body to wander away from Tread, and focus on pleasing this beautiful woman beneath me. She deserves my full attention. Amy gets me unlike anyone else. She’s my best friend other than Tread. My girl gets me better than anyone ever has.
My girl, saying it inside my head feels right but the thought of saying it aloud terrifies me. Saying it aloud could mean losing any hope of having Tread. I know we share for now and it is all fun, but I know the minute I put a serious claim on Amy, that shit will change. If and when I claim her I won’t share her. She deserves better than that from me.
We fuck until we both orgasm and she stays wrapped around me, hugging my sweaty, exhausted body to hers. My head is resting snugly against contour her soft breasts. I love that she has real tits, none of those fake impostors that barely move.
My fingers trace the floral tattoo that covers her stomach. This is perfect. It’s moments like this, shared between me and Amy that I know I could be happy with just this—her, the rest of my life. The thought terrifies me, but one day soon, I’ll hold her in my arms as my wife. I just gotta get my head outta my ass and off Tread.
“Does he know
?” her voice is soft and caring.
“Know what?” I look into her grey eyes seeing that she sees through me. Amy sees the real me. She sees the man I hide away from the rest of the world.
“I know you love him, but does he know?”
Groaning, I flick her nipple with my tongue, dragging the ball of my piercing over her skin, trying to avoid this conversation.
Placing her hands on my chest, she shifts underneath me, and pushes against my hard wall of muscle. “Truth, you can talk to me. No judgment here. You know that. And you know something else? So many times I have wanted to ask you to touch each other when we’ve been together.” She bites her lip and I know she’s imagining sharing the moment with the two of us—Tread and me.
I suck harder on her nipple until it coarsens into a point.
Seeing a vision of Tread and me locked in a kiss with Amy lying between us, my cock strains against her toned stomach. I want to experience it just once. I know if we were to really share Amy together, the two of us, able to touch too, it’d be amazing. I want to know if reality would be as good as the fantasy. To feel his muscles tense and flex from my touch…Fuck, I’m so damn hard.
“I need ye Amy, I need ye now woman!”
“Again?” She laughs, squirming on the cushion, ready to take me for a second time.
“Hell yeah sweetheart, I am all about fucking you until you can’t see straight.”
“I knew there was a reason I liked you,” she jokes against my mouth.
My tongue slides between her parted lips. “You taste like a motherfuckin ripened peach. DE-LIC-IOUS.”
“Guess it’s a good thing you have a sweet tooth then.” She pulls me in for another kiss as my dick pushes against her entrance. Sweet agony. Her legs tighten around me as we bang the couch into the wall. I drive into her pussy so hard and deep, I think I might push the damn couch through the wall and into my bedroom. Dumbass Nona sleeps through the entire thing.
Peaches squeezes my dick so tight. The muscles in my legs are contracting from my holding her in this position so long, but I can’t help it. I want to pump her so goddamn full of my cum. I see an image of her stomach round with my child and I blow my load.
I could love Peaches if my head could get on board with my heart.
If I could let go, of these feelings I shouldn’t be carrying around.
If I could stop being torn between loving her and wanting him.
God, I could love her.
Chapter 3
Tread
“No I don’t have a receipt. The cake is already paid for.” I glare at the old lady behind the counter giving me shit about picking up Harley’s birthday cake. I don’t know why I am stuck doing a bitch job. But whatever. Rebel has the Potentials setting up the games and shit.
Her sapphire eyes narrow on me. “Next time bring a receipt!” She barks at me, shoving the cake across the counter.
“Yes Ma’am.” I salute her and snatch the princess cake from the counter. The wrinkly old bitch has never liked me. I dated her granddaughter back in the day when I was just a pup trying to bust a nut. Christa Franklin. Shit, I can’t believe I still remember her name, that’s been nearly seventeen years ago. I shake my head as I climb in my truck. I had to drive it to pick up the cake. Rebel and Chelle go all out for their kids on their birthdays.
Little Miss Harley is turning three. Rebel must be trying for his own little army. After Axel and Harley were born they had another boy—Abel Jackson Black, he is barely a year old, we all refer to him as AJ for short. Rebel says he loves seeing Chelle pregnant, I’d believe it. Them two are always touching and kissing. Never thought I would see the two of them so happy and in love, but they make it work. I want that, what they have…love and a family.
I almost had it with Liberty, but she peaced out on me when shit got a little too real for her. I haven’t had a real relationship since her. But as the years pass me by, and I get another day older, I know I need to change shit. Fucking club pussy every night with Truth…that shit is getting tired. Every night it’s a different whore and a different kink. I’m tired of this road I’ve been on. I’m at a point where something has to give. But what?
Pulling up at the Roadhouse, the fucking parking lot looks more like a damn daycare center than a clubhouse. Bouncy houses and inflatable slides are set up over in the grass.
“No fucking way!” I mutter under my breath seeing Grim dressed up like a clown. That motherfucker will give the kids nightmares. He looks like he stepped from the set of Attack of the Killer Clowns from Outer Space.
His face is painted white, black circles rim his eyes, his lips bright red. He’s a damn nightmare circus on two legs.
I have to get a video of this. No one would ever believe it happened otherwise. I hand the cake over to Emily, a friend of Chelle’s. She smiles with a twinkle in her eye. We fucked three times, maybe it was four, she used to strip with Amy at Pink Lips. That bitch right there likes to get down.
“Hey,” she says giving me the look. You know that look a down ass bitch gets when she is DTF (down to fuck). Her lips curl in a smirk as she bites her thick bottom lip.
“Hey,” I reply and smack her ass harshly. She nearly drops the cake. That would have been bad. There is no way I’m going back to the store and dealing with that old woman again.
“You’re so bad,” Emily coos.
“Shame you gotta man now or I would bend you over that table and show you just how bad I can be.” She laughs shaking her head.
“Hands off my woman,” One-off grunts in my direction.
I smack his chest and wink at his girl, flashing my dimpled charm. “Just making sure you are treating her right.”
“I’ll treat you to my boot in your ass.” He chuckles and pulls her in for a kiss.
I shake my head grinning as one of his kids makes a grossed out face. I’m glad to see the man happy. Emily too. Their good people. I wish One-off would patch in, he’d make a damn fine Rebel.
Feeling in my pockets, I can’t locate my phone. Damn it! I really wanted this on film. I see Heather has the same idea. Coming up behind her as she films, I let her know I want a copy of this shit. I’ll be seeing her later tonight no doubt.
Grim is decked out in full costume—big funny shoes, striped pants, face paint, red nose and a green wig. Crazy son of a bitch is handing out cotton candy. As badass as he is, he is so content with the kids hanging all over him. He eats their attention and affection up.
Harley kisses his cheek and he smiles so proud. But fuck if his smile isn’t creepy. His big white teeth look ready to rip out a throat or two, reminding me of that famous killer clown, but then the corners of his mouth soften, and I can see the peace written across his face.
It’s good to see the old bastard smiling. After he lost his girls I wasn’t sure he’d ever come back from that. We all kept waiting for his breaking point to come but it hasn’t yet, and I’m not sure that it will. If ever there was a man who could handle any-damn-thing life has to dish out, it’s Grim.
I’m feeling out of place as I watch my brothers with their families. Lulu is slinging the adult drinks, she gives me a chin nod and pours me a shot. My throat feels dry and tight. I observe Rebel as he dotes on Chelle and their children. The brother is smitten. He has come a long way these past few years, since he wised up and made things right with Chelle.
Slamming down one shot after another, I’m starting to loosen up and not dwell on what I haven’t found—love. Shit, even Miracle seems to have found a boyfriend and she’s ten. I laugh as she sneaks behind a tree and kisses a boy on the cheek. Rebel will kick her ass.
Truth comes over standing next to me. “Where you been hiding at?”
“Not hiding from shit, just been busy man.” I have been busy. Shit has been booming at the scrapyard, shouldn’t be closed now, but I was volunteered for cake duty. “I gotta go,” I tell him brushing him off.
Sometimes that motherfucker gets clingy. He’s my best friend and I love h
im dearly, but some days he is worse than a top bitch, always knowing where I am and what the fuck I am doing. He acts like he can’t fuck Peaches unless I am there to hold his fucking hand. And if I am being honest, a part of me is jealous of what they have. A part of me cares about Amy and I hate myself a little more each day for it. She’s my best friend’s girl, at least she should be. If he’d stop letting me stick my dick in her. That’s another problem, I don’t really want to stop fucking her. I can’t say I love her, but I do love fucking her. I can’t explain it. When the three of us are together shit just makes sense.
Christa
“JT, where did this copper come from?” I swear my little brother means well, but I have told him repeatedly, stealing is not the answer.
“None of your business,” he states coolly with a shrug. He jumps in the cab of our Gram’s beat up pickup truck, headed straight for the scrapyard that is run by the stain on our town, Black Rebel Riders’ Motorcycle Club.
I have already warned my brother against doing business with them. The shithead never listens. I don’t want or need their bloodstained money. I know they are into illegal shit and I don’t want their crooked dealings hooking their nasty claws into my brother.
I know JT does what he does for the money, but there has to be another way. I just haven’t figured out what that way is yet.
The bank is after my grandma, threatening to take our property. We are three payments behind on our mortgage. My mom was laid off from her job at the hospital, medicine came up missing and she got the blame. She swears she wasn’t behind it, but I don’t trust her. Why should I? After all, she has lied plenty of times in the past.
Once her unemployment ran out, we couldn’t afford the payments on my Gram’s house anymore. It won’t be long before they evict us from the house my grandfather put his blood, sweat, and tears into.
My mother’s boyfriend keeps offering to get me a job dancing at the club he is a bouncer at, but I’m not that desperate, yet. There is nothing attractive about dancing at Pink Lips. I mean what kind of name is that? Gross!
A Rebel Love (Black Rebel Riders' MC Book 7) Page 3