by Jordan Marie
“You’re shitting me.” I feel like a broken record here, repeating the same lines.
Briar holds his left hand up. “Hand to God.”
“Thought you were an atheist?”
“On some days. Facts don’t change though. That girl is as off limits as they come.”
“Yeah, guess so.” I shrug.
He holds his empty bottle up, signaling for another. “Denise is eyeing you. Go get your rocks off there. She’s a good girl.”
My eyes go to the blonde at the bar. Briar’s right. She’s a decent girl. I like her, and when I decide to use a club girl, she’s the one I always seek out. I even think about it right now, but she’s not who I want. Not even close. My mind and my cock are concentrating on a beautiful girl with cherry red lips and wondering if that juicy mouth tastes as sweet as it appears.
“Nah, man, I think I’m done for the night. I’m going to go shower and hit the bed. My dick’s too tired to party tonight anyways,” I lie. The fucker feels like he could go for days right now.
“Damn. I hope I never get that old.”
I don’t respond. Instead, I head to my room feeling older with each step. My brothers don’t know how lucky they’ve got it. Coming home to one woman and not having to deal with bullshit. Well, maybe they do. Skull and Torch, hell even Sabre and Latch seem pussy whipped and happy to be that way. The bastards were lucky. In my forty years, I can’t say there’s been one woman who stands out. It’s fucking sad. The women I’ve had, are just that. Women I’ve had. A sea of faces, and I can’t recall one clearly. Not a damn one.
Kicking off my boots, I crash back on the bed, clothes and all. I reach over on the bedside table and grab a half bottle of Jack, downing a couple drinks before I put it back. I let the burn settle and close my eyes. I’ll shower tomorrow. Maybe tomorrow I’ll feel better.
It doesn’t surprise me that when I close my eyes the first thing I see is the girl from before. It does surprise me that I don’t even try to fight it. Instead, I let myself dream of fucking her hard all night long. Hell, instead of feeling guilt, in one part of the dream I’m pretty sure I’m fucking her up against a school bus. Her perfect ‘C’ cup breasts are pressing against my chest, and her legs are wrapped around me as I pound into her, filling her completely. Jesus Christ, I’m a bastard.
Chapter Four
Aubree
I’m running late. The Aunt Beth’s babies were cranky this morning. I took care of them and little Hunter this morning. I can’t make myself call Hunter, Bart or BB like everyone else does. That’s why I’m here. I mean I’m going to the party tomorrow for sure. I love Beth and Katie, and they’ve been really decent to me considering what my sperm donor did to put them through hell. But, the real reason I’m here is to help with the kids while they organize everything for the birthday party.
It’s just today is the day I have to take my SAT’s. It’s probably a waste of my time. I have zero interest in going to college. I don’t know what I want out of life, but I know that’s not it—another four plus years of school, no thanks. Sounds corny I guess, but I’d be happy with my life if it turned out like my aunts’. Married to a man I love and spending all my time with him sounds like a dream come true. I’ve never had big aspirations of a career or going abroad like some of my other friends. I like it here. However, to keep Pops from having an aneurism I agreed to get ready for college and to keep the peace, I am.
Pops has been good to me. Before him I didn’t have crap. I pretty much raised myself. I cooked my own dinners from the time I was nine years old. It was that or starve. Before that I made a lot of peanut butter sandwiches. I used to be mad at Pops and everyone in the Chrome Saints, until I realized very few people knew I existed. Viper, my sperm donor, kept me in a house away from the club and only one or two people knew I was even alive.
When Pops found me, he cried for days. I did too, but for different reasons. His tears were from the shame he felt that his granddaughter was forced to live the way I did. Mine were from the relief I felt when I was rescued. I fought hard to go to public school. I had been homeschooled by one of the club whores, and I wanted out. I wanted to breathe fresh air and meet other kids…be normal. Pops did everything he could to give me the normal life I craved and he continues to give me a lot more. The addition of my aunts only helps me to feel…ordinary. Say what you want, but being ordinary is amazing.
But, right now I’m running late for my SAT’s. I finally got the kids happy. It took my singing along with their favorite cartoon and building a big tower of blocks and pretending I was a monster knocking it over, but I got them settled enough to get in the car. I left Beth’s and brought them here to the club. An older woman that the girls trust, Mattah, is going to take care of them while I take my test. So, before I was late, now I’m really late. Added to that, I rush back to my car, only to find that for some reason it won’t start. I was only in there three minutes, tops! The car was fine before!
“Shit! Shit! Shit!” I mutter, slamming my car door shut.
“Problems?” a deep voice asks.
I look up and it’s him. The man from yesterday. The one who made every feminine part in me stand up and take notice, even from a distance. The man I dreamed of last night. His voice is deeper than I imagined—huskier. I can feel shivers of awareness run all through me.
“Uh…yeah,” I say stupidly. I’m having trouble thinking, all I can do is stare at him. He’s taller than I noticed last night. I stand 5’7” and he makes me feel small. He towers over me. A fact that is clearer when he walks closer to me, and I have to keep looking up to find those dark brown eyes. Brown. His eyes are chocolate brown, dark and mysterious. His dark hair has touches of silver peppered throughout and somehow that makes him even sexier. It gives him an edge. His hair is cut short on the neck, but the top is shaggy with waves appearing unkempt…like someone has been running their fingers through it. I wish it had been me. Is it as soft as it looks? He’s got a beard that’s trimmed and neat, but looks sexy. I’ve never liked men with hair on their face, but he could make me change my mind. He’s broad, and big, but somehow skinny at the same time. He has an air of danger about him, but yet I don’t sense darkness in him. Believe me, after living with my sperm donor I’ve seen darkness and evil.
“You okay?”
“Okay?”
His lips move into a smile, and I catch a glimpse of perfect white teeth before he shakes his head. He moves around me and goes to my car, getting in and popping the hood. I don’t do anything to stop him. I’m too busy concentrating on the way those jeans stretch over his ass. How that faded gray t-shirt gives me just a peek of his skin under it, and how said skin is tanned a beautiful golden bronze color, just like the rest of his body. That quiver in my lower belly just got more intense.
“Get in and try to start your car,” he says, and I shake myself out of the mini-trance he has me in. I do as he says. It doesn’t even enter my mind to argue with him. There’s something about him that makes me want to obey everything he tells me. Dangerous, for sure. I turn the key and the motor turns and cranks, but nothing happens. I get out disappointed.
“It’s okay. I’ll see if I can get Katie or Beth to take me. I’ll just have to have Pops look at it later.”
“Pops? He asks, walking around me and getting inside my car. “Is that your old man?”
“My grandfather. I don’t have an old man,” I tell him, my face heating for some unexplainable reason. His being close to me seems to warm me up.
“Figured,” he says and gets out of the car, with an almost disgusted look on his face.
I frown. “What does that mean?”
“Two things,” he says, slipping his sunglasses back on. They’re mirrored and reflect back at me, and I instantly hate them. I want to see his eyes again. So bad that it’s all I can do not to physically reach over and rip them off his face.
“Which are?”
“One you’re too damn young to have an old man,” he starts
and that bothers me. Mostly because I don’t want him to view me as young—and definitely not off limits.
Sticking my chest out, I tell him, “I’m old enough.”
“You’re jailbait.”
“I haven’t been that for a while,” I tell him stretching the truth. “Besides, if that’s how you felt, why did you ask who Pops was?”
“Curiosity.”
“Curiosity killed the cat,” I mutter, annoyed with him. He’s making me feel bad, and I don’t like it. I’m used to boys trying to compliment me and throwing themselves at me. For the first time in my life, I actually want one to, and he’s making me feel…stupid.
“So did messing with the wrong girl. Especially the wrong underage girl,” he stresses.
“I’m not underage,” I tell him, wondering what exactly messing with means.
“How old are you?” he asks, and even though his eyes are hidden, I get the feeling they’re boring into me. I can feel the heat from them.
“Eighteen.”
“Fuck,” he rumbles rubbing his fingers through his hair, and I’m instantly jealous of those fingers.
“What? I didn’t lie. That’s the legal age of consent. Anyways, I gotta go. I’m already late. I’ll just try and get one of my…”
He cuts me off asking, “Where are you going?”
“I have a test.”
“A test?”
“Yeah.”
“It’s Saturday,” he states as if I don’t know what day it is.
“I know. It’s my SAT test for college. I can’t miss it or Pops will have a shit-fit.”
“Jesus Christ. Briar was right, you are in high school.” He shakes his head, but he doesn’t walk away.
“Well, yeah. For a little longer.”
“How much longer?”
“I don’t see why this is important. I really need to get going.” I sigh, stepping forward to walk around him.
He matches my step, cutting me off. “How much longer?” his deep voice rumbles, even deeper than normal, and it scrapes across my nerve endings making my stomach clench. Or it could be the way he reaches out and grabs my hand, keeping me from leaving. There’s so much heat coming from his touch, it envelopes me, and I swear I feel my knees grow weak.
“Four weeks,” I whisper, and it is a hoarse whisper, worse, I’m pretty sure he can feel the way my body just shook with a tremble. His thumb brushes back and forth on my arm. I watch it, because for some reason I can’t make myself look up at those mirrored glasses again. I’m afraid I’d reveal too much about how he is affecting me—especially since I can’t see his expression.
“It’ll have to work.” He sighs vaguely, confusing me. Before I can ask him, he’s pulling me across the parking lot. “Let’s go,” he says.
I do my best to stop, though it takes me a minute to realize I need to. “Go where?”
“I’ll take you to your test,” he says coolly as if him taking me somewhere is natural.
“Oh. Are you sure? I could get my aunts to…” I trail off intrigued by his offer.
“I’m sure,” he says, walking me over to a parked bike. He gets on and looks at me expectantly. “Get on.”
I have a moment of indecision, before I decide to go with it. I brace my hand on his shoulder, more of that electricity passes between us, though to be honest, I’m starting to enjoy it. I swing on behind him and settle in. He reaches around me with a helmet placing it on my head. It has to be his, because it’s a little big. He adjusts it as much as he can before turning back around, he pulls his sunglasses down to look at me. I can feel the heat of his gaze like the flames of a thousand candles. I hear an almost soundless sigh come from him, and then he faces to the front powering the bike to life.
“Hold on,” he orders, and I gladly wrap my arms around him, leaning into his back. It’s like wrapping around the sun and all the heat settles between my legs.
Finally, I think I know what they meant when the other girls in my class used to say their boyfriends set them on fire. I’m feeling that way, and the only thing I know about him is he thinks I’m too young. I didn’t even look at his name on his cut. I was too busy checking the rest of him out.
Dang it.
Chapter Five
Jax
If there’s a sweeter Hell on Earth than feeling her legs tightening against my thighs, having her body lean into me, her arms wrapped around me, as I’m driving her down the road on my bike, I don’t know what it is.
Fuck, it feels so good.
No.
She feels so good.
She fits.
She belongs to me.
Christ. That sounds so fucking stupid and it’s impossible, but that’s exactly how I feel—like she’s mine. Which is crazy. Completely and utterly stupid, in fact. She can’t be mine. She’s too damn young, she’s property of another club. A club that the Blaze have just recently buried a hatchet with. Hell, Skull, our President, and Tucker still barely like each other. I fuck around with Tucker’s granddaughter—his eighteen-year-old, still in high school granddaughter? I’ll probably blow the truce, have my cut taken, be left without a club, and wind up six feet underground. It would be a toss-up as to if Skull or Tucker would put me there.
I have to be completely insane to even be thinking about her. But…I am. She’s awoken something inside of me, I’ve never had any idea existed. I have a suspicion it’s what has been leaving me so unsatisfied with life. What I can’t fucking understand is how an eighteen-year-old girl could be the answer to what I’ve been searching for, for years. Fuck, I’ve probably been searching longer than she’s been alive. That thought alone should be enough to freeze my fucking balls into ice cubes and yet, it doesn’t.
Instead, my cock is as hard as it was yesterday, as hard as it was last night, and as hard as it was even after I jacked off in the shower this morning, while I thought about the dirty things I’d do to her if given the chance. I’m in deep shit, and instead of getting space, here I am giving the woman a ride on my bike. A bike that has never had another woman on it. My bike is sacred, putting a bitch on the back implies something, something I haven’t wanted…until now.
I had her give me directions, but I don’t think I was prepared to pull into the parking lot of the local high school. Goddamn. Seeing the damn buses parked in a nearby lot reminds me of my dream. I pull up to the front door, ignoring the looks the people that are scattered around are giving us. I’m used to looks, it’s just I’m pretty sure these are calling me a dirty old man. A pervert and fuck I am. I’m both of those because it wouldn’t take me too much to lean her over my bike and fuck the hell out of her right now. I wouldn’t even give a fuck who is watching. Part of me wants them to see it. See me claim her. Watch as I sink my cock deep inside her branding her as mine. All mine.
She gets off my bike when we park, and I instantly miss her arms around me. She takes a step to stand in front of me, her soft hair is windblown, wild around her face, her cheeks are blushed from the sting of the wind and the exhilaration of the ride. The ‘V’ cut in her shirt gives me just a peek of her ample breasts, and it’s not too much to imagine this is exactly the look she would have after a healthy work out in the bed, or on the floor, shower…against a fucking wall…over the seat of my bike.
“Uh…thank you, I’m sorry I don’t know your name,” she says, interrupting my list of all the places I want to fuck her.
“Ajax.”
“Ajax? Like the cleaner?”
“There’s nothing clean about me, sweets,” I tell her and that’s more true than ever since I met her. Her nose curls in disgust and it’s damn cute. Jesus, even that makes me want her.
“Don’t call me that. I don’t like it,” she sasses.
“What?”
“Sweets. My name is Aubree.”
“What’s wrong with sweets?”
“That’s what you call a woman when you know you aren’t going to expend the effort to learn her name. I have a name. I like my name. Call
me by it,” she demands, even as her blush is deepening. Baby girl has a kick to her, and fuck if that don’t just turn me on more. I like a woman who speaks up for herself. I like her even more when she knows to do as she’s told, and I’m thinking Aubree knows that for sure.
“I doubt we’ll know each other long enough for me to use your name much.”
“That would make me sad, Shaft,” she says, her voice soft, using the name on my cut. I look down at my name and wish it hadn’t been there. Her calling me by that name is wrong.
“Don’t call me that,” I all but growl at her.
“It’s your club name, isn’t that what your friends and family call you?”
“That’s not you. Don’t call me that,” I tell her again.
“Oh. Okay, right. Thanks for the ride. I’m sorry to bother you,” she says, the hurt in her voice is clear, making me feel like a real asshole. I’m biting my tongue to keep from explaining—especially when she starts to walk away with her head down.
“Aubree! You’re late. I been waiting for you, babe.” Babe.
I watch as some jock with a jacket on like football players wear comes running towards her and just like that my will for pushing her away is gone.
“Bree,” I growl, and it is a growl. A fuckin deep growl, and it’s the only thing that’s keeping me from cutting off the high school Casanova’s hand when he dares to put it on her shoulder. Heat bubbles in my chest, it’s a raw feeling, one I’m not used to. It isn’t quite anger, but I don’t want to say I’m jealous either. She stops, her feet stumbling a little, and then she turns around. My chest constricts.
“Everyone calls me Aubree,” she says, her eyes, a mixture of brown and green looking at me confused.
“I’m not everyone. Especially not to you.”
Her head tilts to the side just a little and she studies me. “I get it. You’re special,” she says, and those cherry lips once again lift into a smile.