by Zahra Girard
“How do you make it work?” I say. Just thinking about it all makes me feel like I’m drowning. There’s so much to consider, so much to worry about, it’s like the world is trying to swallow me.
“You fight for it. You fight every day. Because when it’s good, it’s so good. And when it’s bad, you think about how good it can be and you work your fucking ass off to get things back on track,” Sophia says.
“It isn’t easy, Addie,” Violet says. “It’s the hardest job I’ve ever had. But it’s the most rewarding one, too. There are times that Crash makes me feel so special, my heart is ready to burst. And he’s good to my friends, too. Kendra wouldn’t be here without him. And Josie would be such an undirected hellraiser — I mean, she will always be a hellraiser, but at least now she has a good group around her to keep her on track. It’s so worth it. I wouldn’t trade it for the world.”
“You could always do as I do, dear,” Ruby says. “It took time to move on from my dear departed rascal of a husband, and I miss him every day, but I’ve learned to embrace my freedom and the modern conveniences that enable me to live a very full life. And very full evenings.”
“Ruby, have another drink. You sound thirsty,” Violet says.
“Oh, I certainly will, but this martini is not masculine enough for my needs.”
Slowly, I tune them out, let them continue their conversation on their own as I slip into my own thoughts. I see two paths in front of me, two paths that lead in entirely different directions; one leads to the man I want, one leads to the life I want, and never will those two meet.
Then the clubhouse doors open. And I see him; The man I’ve wanted since I knew what it felt like to want a man.
All five of them — my father, Snake, Axel, Blaze, and Mack — return with grim faces. Expressions grave enough to wrench my stomach upside down with worry. It’s hard to keep my distance right then — just seeing the look on Snake’s face makes me want to run to him — but I wait. I know better than to charge in and insert myself in club business.
I wait. Watch. See the men huddle in gloomy conversation, observe the white-knuckle grips on glasses, the deliberate way they chug their whiskey, as if trying to drown their agitation.
It’s a struggle to spend nearly twenty minutes watching him in dark debate with the rest of the club. To see that side of him he fights so hard to repress come to the surface, that part of him that suffers so much pain and so loves to inflict it.
When the club’s conversation finally breaks, I nearly fly off my seat and walk as fast as I can toward him without drawing attention to myself. Ruby, Violet, and Sophia might know how I feel about Snake, but they’ll keep my secret and I can’t risk anyone else finding out.
First, as the dutiful daughter, I go to my father. I give him a hug and a kiss on the cheek and he absentmindedly returns my kiss.
“I love you, dad,” I say. “You OK?”
“Love you, too, Addie,” he grunts in return. “You and your mother stay safe while I was gone?”
“We did. But she’s been nervous since you left. You know that one wrinkle she gets on her forehead when she’s really worried? She’s got that real bad right now.”
“She does?”
“She’d probably appreciate you taking her out back to talk in private for a bit.”
“That’s a good idea,” he says, giving me another not-quite-there kiss and a hug.
I think of telling him to wait — I can’t recall the last time I’ve seen my father this frustrated — but he’s heading toward my mom before I can react. Which is just as well. My mom’s always been the one to help him find his center, and he needs her now just as much as she needs him. They’re a team.
Once he leaves, I say a few more greetings to the rest of the returning men, making a point to say hello to everyone but Snake first. I get enormous hugs from Blaze and Mack, a bear-hug from Axel and come out of it with an itchy face because of his beard, and then I get to Snake. I squeeze him tighter than all the others.
“How are you?” I say, looking for any hint of his thoughts in his eyes.
He breathes in deep, lets it out in a heavy sigh. “It’s hard, Addie. Tonight was hard. This is only going to get worse before it gets better. War’s coming.”
“Did you guys at least get what you wanted out of whatever it is you were out doing?”
“We tracked down Silas. The highlight of that was Blaze and his, uh, unique method of breaking in to Silas’ motel room.”
Blaze raises his voice behind us. “You’re not to fucking speak of that to anyone, Snake. I did as you asked and I did that for the club. But what happened will stay a secret between the five of us until the day we are all dead and buried. You hear me?”
“Yeah, I hear you, brother,” Snake says. Then he leans to whisper in my ear. “I convinced Blaze that the best way to get to Silas was for him to strip and pretend to be drunk and trying to get into the wrong room. It worked. He was wearing nothing but his underwear and sitting on Silas Cooper’s chest.”
“You’re kidding?” I whisper back.
“It was easy, too. I just suggested it and he took to it. Like he was just waiting for an excuse.”
I’m grinning, and I can’t stop taking looks at Blaze over my shoulder.
I hope he doesn’t see me. Or realize that Snake’s told me what he did.
Fortunately, Blaze doesn’t hear.
“Why don’t we go for a ride? Get away from all this?” I say.
He nods, and the ominous look on his face fades a little; the corners of his lips pull upward in the faintest trace of a smile. Just a little, but it gives me hope that I can get through to him. I hate to see him like this — suffering, struggling with the darkness inside himself.
I’ve known him for years, cared about him practically my whole life, and it hurts me to see anyone in the MC in pain. Snake, most of all.
If there’s anything I can do to help him, I’m going to do it. I care deeply for him, and years in the MC has taught me that — even if it’s a struggle and you have to butt heads with them until you’re both bruised and bloody — you do not let your loved ones suffer.
“Yeah, I’d like that. Check with Stone first, all right?”
Before he can second-guess, or come up with some reason about how his duty to the club means it’s not a good idea to go clear his head and spend time with me away from everyone else, I race out the back door and into the back lot.
My mom and dad are in each other’s arms, lips locked; my mom’s shirt is half undone, and they definitely do not see me. Or hear me. Not even when I slam the door.
I cough loud. But they don’t hear that, either; they’re so caught up in each other.
When my dad fully strips off my mom’s shirt and unhooks her bra, I decide coughing sure as heck will not cut it for getting their attention.
“Hey, mom, dad, I’m right here. Can you stop having sex for a second so I can talk to you?”
They stop. Well, stop trying to undress each other, at least. Their lips still stay locked, and my dad gives me a look like I should get the hell back inside. This isn’t the first time this has happened, and it doesn’t particularly shock me. In fact, right now, I’m grateful for their distraction.
“Adella Garcia Stone, what is it you want?” My mom says, using my full name — my middle name coming from birth parents — which is something she only does when she’s especially exasperated.
“Listen, I’m going to go for a ride. I might go grab my camera and do some photo work. I’ll stay close to my home and only go to public, busy places. I just need to get out; the mood in there is just dark and suffocating and all the guys seem like they want to chop someone’s head off. I’ll take Snake with me, OK?”
The only response I get is an abrupt wave from both of them. Even before I’m fully turned and back inside, they’re back at it, going after each other like ravenous teenagers. It’s been the same for as long as I can remember — they’ve always been crazy for eac
h other and, often, I think about how lucky I am to have been adopted by two people who are so wildly in love. I hope I can find the same for myself someday.
Snake’s waiting for me right where I left him, an expectant look on his face.
I smile at him. “We’re good. Let’s go.”
Quickly, we head out to the parking lot and get on our bikes. No matter what’s on my mind, it always feels good to have my motorcycle between my legs, and it feels even better to have Snake riding beside me, both of us pushing our bikes down the road.
He lets me lead and, though I know where I want to go — back to my apartment, so I can talk to him, find out what’s on his mind, so I can ease his pain and, most important of all, spend more time in his arms — I take my time; riding on its own is cathartic, and Snake looks like he needs all the catharsis he can get.
Somewhere on those interminable stretches of road, I realize my problems have wings; no matter how fast I ride, how tight I take a turn, they always follow me. And, at some point, they won’t be content to just follow; they’ll settle on my back and they’ll settle on his. They’ll command me to choose — to strive to become my own person, or to become Snake’s old lady and weave myself further into the fabric of the MC. They’ll command him to choose, too — to follow his heart, or to follow his duty.
Whichever choice we make, we’ll lose.
I lose him, or I lose myself.
He loses me, or he loses the club.
At a windy stretch of desert road past the remains of a rundown ranch, I wave to catch his attention. I draw a circle in the air to tell him to turn around. We ride just as fast back to my place, in unspoken silence, the only sounds the roar of our engines and the flutter of trouble’s wings against our back.
Soon, we must choose.
But, as we reach my apartment and I see him dismount his bike, I know that moment isn’t here. Not yet.
There’s a look of pain on his face that draws me to him. And there’s a look of lust and love in his eyes that lifts me onto my tiptoes to kiss him.
No, there’s no choosing right now.
It’s why I feel comfortable taking his hand. Leading him into my building. And, as we cross the threshold of my apartment door and I shut it behind me with an errant backwards tap of my foot, it’s why I feel comfortable removing my shirt. And reaching for his.
It’s why I feel comfortable whispering, “I love you, Snake. Will you take me to bed?”
Chapter Sixteen
Snake
Those words hit me harder than any gunshot; how does a man as fucked up as me deserve the love of a woman like her? Hours ago, I carved a man to pieces, without mercy, without remorse — I brought the darkest parts of my soul to bear to protect my family in the MC; how is it right for someone as pure as her to want to be with a man like me?
And how can I love her if I I know that it could cost me my place in the club?
The last time I went against my mission, I lost my best friend and it ruined me to my core. Will loving Adella do the same?
I’m a soldier — it’s my duty to focus on this threat to the club, to put all things secondary.
How is any of this right?
But when she kisses me — when she looks to me with those soul-swallowing eyes of hers — all those questions fade away.
I answer, “I love you, too.”
Because she looks at me like I’m not some dark, fucked up mess. All the pain I’ve been through, all the blood on my hands, all the scars I bear; she doesn’t see any of that. Or, if she does, she loves me despite it.
How can I say no to that kind of love? To a woman as special as her?
I can’t.
I press my lips to hers with furious hunger. My heart and soul starved for the feeling that only touching her, kissing her, fucking her, can bring.
I kiss her.
Desire consumes me. Drives me.
I need her. Want her. Have to have her.
Press her back flat against the door and I crush my lips to hers, to her neck, to her chest. Rip her bra away and lavish attention on the lovely mounds of her tits, sucking her nipples until they’re hard, until she’s squirming against the door with desire she can’t suppress. Knowing that I’m the first man who’s ever touched her like this, who’s ever brought her perky nipples to attention, who’s ever run his tongue down her tummy, who’s ever knelt in front of her and undone her jeans, who’s ever pulled them and her panties down to her ankles, who’s ever pressed his tongue against the soft mound of her pussy and heard her purr in desperate need, gets me harder than I’ve ever been in my fucking life.
“Keep doing that,” she moans as I gently stroke her clit with my tongue. “Don’t stop. It feels so good.”
I can’t resist chuckling. Adella Stone is innocent in so many endearing ways.
“Stop eating your pussy? I wasn’t fucking planning on it.”
I let my lips and my tongue wander her body — her hips, her thighs, her mound, her labia — I want it all, want to taste it all, and the moans she lets out make everything more delicious.
I could stay on my knees forever in front of this woman and die a happy man.
But eventually I cease my wandering, find a home for my tongue in the place where she wants it most, and I listen to the sound of her breathing, her moaning, feel the grip of her fingers on my head as she pulls me into the spot where each flick of my tongue makes her smooth thighs tense and her hips grind herself against my face.
I’ve found heaven. A dark, twisted bastard like me has found heaven. And it’s between the legs of the one woman that I can’t have.
“Don’t stop, Snake,” she moans, her voice rising in pitch. “It feels so good, I think I’m going to—”
Her legs quiver.
Her tummy clenches as her entire body stiffens.
I reach around and grab her by her delicious ass, holding her on her feet as she comes against my face. I want to keep her here forever, forever taste her, forever be close to her.
Eventually, her shaking stops. She tightens her hold on my head and pulls me up until she can kiss me.
Now, it’s her turn for her hands to wander down my body. Lightly, she slides her fingertips down my chest. Touching every part of me in a way that raises goosebumps up and down my back.
How is this woman able to do this to me, when no other woman can?
She takes hold of the buttons of my jeans, pulls them free and, with a devilish grin on her face, drops to her knees.
“I’m going to suck you, Snake.”
I want to see this sight every night for the rest of my life.
Adella on her knees, my cock in her mouth, a smile on her face, and the taste of her pussy on my lips. She’s so innocent — she says I’m her first — and it’s her innocence that makes me harder than any woman I’ve been with before. This woman is all mine, ready to give me everything.
I shut my eyes and have to reach out and grab the door to keep from falling. Adella is something special; in minutes, she’s got me boiling on the inside, ready to burst.
“I need to fuck you, Addie. Fuck, I need it so fucking bad.”
She lets go of my cock and stands up, smiling.
“How do you want me, Snake?”
I take a deep breath, steady myself.
“Turn around. Bend over. Let me see your ass.”
Every time I watch her ride, watch her sling one of her legs over her bike, watch the way her jeans hug her ass, I’ve wanted this view. Her curvy, brown-skinned ass right in front of me, mine to grab and hold while I fuck her from behind.
It’s even better than I imagined.
She looks back at me, brown eyes shining, back arched, highlighting just how curvy her ass is, and she smiles.
“Is this what you want?”
“It’s what I’ll always want.”
I position myself behind her, and she reaches between her legs and grabs my cock to guide it in to her tight wet pussy. My fingers dig in to her hips,
the warm sensation is so overwhelming I feel like I’m about to fall over.
Breathing deep, I start slow. Gentle. This is only her second time and, no matter how badly I want to fuck her senseless, I don’t want to hurt her. I want her to feel good; I want her to enjoy every second of our fucking.
“You can fuck me harder, Snake. I know you want to.”
How does she always know what’s on my mind?
I grunt in response.
It’s too hard to put words together, it feels so damn good being inside her. So damn good hearing her moan in pleasure as I fuck her harder. Hearing her gasp, “More. Harder.” as I grip her hips tight and thrust deep into her, enough that the door she’s leaning against shakes in its frame.
Then, her moan becomes a gasp, goosebumps creep up and down her brown body, and her pussy clenches tight to my cock as she comes.
It’s more than I can take.
I can’t fight how good she makes me feel.
I let go. Lose myself deep inside her. Forget everything except how fucking amazing this woman is and the profound effect she has on me, body and soul.
Fuck if I know how long I take to recover when we both finish. For the longest time, we stay right where we are — barely inside her apartment, because we just couldn’t wait to walk the twenty feet to her bedroom before we had sex — and enjoy the simple touch of each other.
When I’m with her, I feel like a different man; like a man who doesn’t carry all these wounds on his heart.
Enjoy this moment, Snake. Because it might be one of the last you have. You know what you need to do.
This can not last.
With her hand on my chest, she gently leads me to her couch. There’s a look on her face like she knows what I want, what I need, to tell her. This woman can read me like no other.