by Amy Davies
The house is pretty fucking cool, if you ask me. The garage opens on both sides. You can drive into the garage and directly into the garden, which is fucking huge. EC sectioned it off and grassed half and patio slabbed the other side. He even built decking from the back door.
“Yeah, man, grab me a beer.”
“Please, motherfucker,” I gripe.
“Please, with a sexy cherry on top,” he yells back. I take two bottles of beer from the fridge and walk back to him on the front drive. EC is sitting next to the bike, looking like his favourite bike was just run over.
“What’s up?” He jumps a little. Clearly he never heard me come back out. He quickly pockets his phone and takes the beer from me. Downing most of the bottle, he burps before speaking.
“Nothing, man. Thanks.” He tips the bottle at me.
“You can talk to me, you know.”
“I know.” But that’s all he says. No more explanation as to why he’s looking down in the dumps. I let it be for now. He knows if he needs to talk, I’m here. Hell, most of the club will be there for him.
We get back to fixing the bike up, my back killing me from bending over the fucking machine. My knuckles are cut from trying to get the nuts off. EC spends his time cleaning the engine, because fuck if I know how to do that shit.
Even though I have loved riding my bike since I can remember, I only know the basics to fixing the damn things. Thank fuck the club owns a fucking garage. The club has their fingers in a few businesses—all legal, I might add, but yeah, we do some not so legal stuff too.
When I was younger, I wanted to be a part of the club. It was the one thing I was sure of. Mum wanted me to go off to college to get some sort of education before I started my life as a full-time prospect. Even though I was the president's son, I still had to prospect and do my time like the others before me.
Me and Ace did mechanics and engineering, but I fluked my way through, whereas Ace passed everything. Lucky fucker. I was happy to take the attention that was given to me by all the college girls, and believe me, there were fucking loads. The prospect cuts we wore got a shit load of attention.
It was in college that I saw Jamie for the first time. I was sitting on the grass, just outside the main door to the college building, and she walked past with a friend. She was fucking stunning. Wearing a pair of tight jeans, but not too night, and a green V-neck jumper that hugged her tits to perfection.
My dick took notice as much as my eyes did. I saw her a lot around the campus, but we barely spoke two words to each other. I tried talking to her, but her shyness won out every time and she scurried away.
Seeing her that night made my blood boil with the urge to hurt some motherfucker. My brother at the club helped me dish out some sort of justice, but the fuckers never got any jail time because Jamie vanished off the face of the earth. Her dads told me she needed time away, but they never divulged any info. They thanked me and the club for doing what the police would never do.
“Hey, EC.” A whiney voice breaks my thoughts of the past. I turn and see two girls standing on the driveway. They are dressed for a night out in skinny jeans and tight tops, full hair and makeup, but it’s just after three p.m.
“Oh, hey, girls.” He greets them but never lifts his head from the engine. They pout a little but move closer. They must be cold as the tops they have on are thin and they’re wearing no jackets.
“So, who do we have here?” One of them moves closer to me and runs her long nails along my arm. I step away, because can anyone say ‘jailbait’? Fuck that shit. No pussy is worth that amount of trouble.
“Dyson,” I introduce myself. I walk around the side of the bike, and she follows me. Her ridiculous high heels get caught on a crack in the path, and she goes flying towards me. I reach out and catch her. I may be a wanker, but I won’t see a woman hurt. Her arms go around my neck when we straighten up. I try to push her away, but her fingers lock in place.
Tyres squealing past have me snapping my head up. I see Jamie driving away in her black Hyundai i20 three-door. My stomach drops. Did she think I was with this girl?
Fuck a motherfucking cunt.
I push the girl off me and pick up another cloth off the workbench, scrubbing my hands clean of most of the oil.
“I’m gonna get cleaned up and then I’m out, brother.” I walk around the girl and into the kitchen. I turn on the hot water tap and pour some washing-up liquid onto my hand. I scrub the oil off, digging into my nails. I fucking hate that the oil gets everywhere.
“I can help you get cleaned up, honey?” I shake my head, keeping my gaze out the window.
“I’m good, thanks.” Once the oil is gone, I pick up a towel and wipe my hands dry, then step around her. I need to get away from her. I fucking hate needy, clingy girls. It pisses me off.
I ignore her calling my name and jog over to my bike. I start her up, heading in the direction of the clubhouse to shower and change. I need to check in with Dad and Ace again before going to see Jamie at The Silver Bowl.
Jamie
I slam the car into gear and peel away from the house. I know I have no right to be pissed at seeing Dyson with that girl, but damn it, it did piss me off. He isn’t mine. He can shag whoever he wants. She was all over him, and from what I could see, she looked really young. I guess that’s his thing.
I drive home thinking about Dyson and that girl, and my anger festers and builds. The rational part of my brain is being controlled by the green-eyed bitch ruling things at the moment. Just like she had been buzzing the night Dyson took that girl out the back of the pub.
I pull up at my house and shut off the engine. I had needed a shopping day today. The bar had been busy as hell, and I needed some retail therapy. I got some sexy black, leather trousers; a sexy black, lace quarter-sleeved top that dips below my breasts, perfect for showing off my tattoo; some ripped jeans, and a few boyfriend vests.
I unload my car and carry the bags into the house, where I dump them on the couch before sitting and removing my boots. Fuck me, why is it always the sexy as fuck boots that hurt the most?
I sigh when the boots come off and lean back on the couch. I close my eyes and take in a few deep breaths, calming myself down, before I start unpacking my new purchases. I see Dyson with the girl from the other night, and now the one from today. He has a fucking type, that’s for sure.
Well, maybe I should show him what he’s missing by having the little girls he’s playing with. I smirk and stand up, pick up my bags, and climb the stairs. I lay each of the items out and piece together an outfit for tonight, because I know he will be in the pub tonight. He’s popped in a few times since he found out I own the place.
I smile down at the killer outfit and head for the shower. I need to wash the shopping day off and shave everything. I hate a hairy vag. I generally don’t like the men eating me to choke on a hairball.
I laugh at the joke Andrew just told a bunch of college girls hovering at his side of the bar. It’s Andrew, Nell and me tonight, and Lance in the back cooking. The kitchen closes in two hours, but I know he will stay after hours to have a quick drink before he goes home.
I slide the pint across the bar to the bloke who is trying to give me the fuck-me-eyes but instead looks like he’s squinting in the bright light. I shake my head at him and walk over a group of older women, who are dressed to the nines. They are hunting tonight.
“Ladies, what can I get you?”
“Titties like yours, for one.” They crack up laughing, and I can’t help but join in. I shake my head and lean forward, letting them have a better view of the girls. Their eyes snap to my top.
The black thin-strapped, crop-top cups my breasts, meaning I don’t need a bra. Thank fuck for perky tits. I’d slipped on my black leather skirt that stops mid-thigh but has a little slit on the side. I normally wear biker boots or some kick-arse boots, but tonight I decided to wear high, black ankle boots with a gold chain around my ankles and three pieces hanging down the back o
f the heel.
“Maybe I should add them to the menu.” I wink at them. They are a fucking hoot. I would have thought they would be offended easily, but they are actually pretty cool.
“What about one of those sexy bikers that just walked in?” The blonde points to the door. Keeping my hands on the bar top, I turn my head, seeing Batch, EC and Maze walk in… with Dyson. My heart skips a beat and my pussy decides in that moment to make my thong uncomfortably wet.
The guys strut to the bar, winking at a few women as they pass. Not Dyson, though. He looks across the bar and his gaze locks on mine. He smirks at me, and I force my body to not overly respond to him. He is a cocky twat as it is; he doesn’t need more ammo to make his ego grow.
“Good evening, beautiful ladies. What brings you to a place like this?” Maze asks the group of ladies in front of me. And what the hell did he mean, ‘a place like this’?” My connection to Dyson breaks, and I look at Maze.
“Hey, what the fuck is that supposed to mean?” I place my hands on my hips, drawing his gaze to the exposed skin there. He licks his lips, and I smirk at him.
“You like what you see there, handsome?”
“Fuck yeah, I do, baby,” he groans out.
“Well, if you like what you see, why the fuck are you saying shit about my pub?” I quirk a brow at him, waiting for his reply.
He looks at the ladies and then back to me. He shrugs and replies, “It was just a question, babe. I didn’t mean anything by it. How about a round of drinks?”
“Fine,” I mutter.
I let his comment slide for now. I won’t have anyone saying shit about this place. My uncle Stu made it the place it is today.
The ladies order their cocktails, and the guys order their beers and a few shots. I slide the last two cocktails over to the women and turn to get the boys’ drinks.
“So, I don’t even warrant a ‘hello’ now?” I look over my shoulder to answer him, but my voice catches in my throat. Dyson is leaning on the bar, his forearms looking sexy. Is that a thing? His shoulders are bunched up but look huge, strong under the dark t-shirt he’s wearing beneath his club cut.
“Hello,” I say in my sweet, polite voice.
“Funny. But what's eating your arse that you can't even acknowledge I’m here?” I close my eyes and shake my head. Unbelievable that he is asking me that. I know he saw me earlier.
I turn back around and pick up the shot glasses and the bottle of bourbon for them. I place the bottle and the glasses on the bar top, before turning and bending over to reach into the fridge for the beers.
“Damn, look at that arse. Girls, what the hell are we doing wrong?” I chuckle when I hear one of the ladies compliment my arse.
“You’re doing nothing wrong, ladies. You are perfect, just the way you are. But I have to agree; her arse is fucking fine.” Ahh, Maze is the smooth talker. The ladies giggle and ‘ooh’ and ‘ahh’ over his words. I straighten up and hand over the beers.
I catch Dyson is the only one not smiling at what Maze just said. He doesn't seem to be engaging in any of their conversation around him. His gaze is fiercely locked on me the whole time. It’s a pretty good thing I’m not the type of girl to get an insecurity complex at having a sexy man like Dyson stare at her.
Once everyone has their drinks, I step over to where Dyson is still leaning on the bar. The veins in his forearms are fucking sexy. I still find it weird that I like that. His gaze strays from my face, down to the top of my skirt. It can’t wander lower because of the bar. I smile at him, and he lifts himself up and looks over the bar to see down to my feet.
He nods in appreciation. Not that I care what a man thinks of me or what I’m wearing. Oh hell, who am I kidding; of course, I care what this man thinks of me. He leans back and brings his gaze back to mine.
“Never seen a sexier woman, baby.” I fold my arms across my chest, making my tits push up in my top more. They look fucking perfect in this top, even if I do say so myself. His gaze drops to them, but bounces right back up to my eyes.
“Oh really? How many women have you told that to, to get in their thongs, Wesley Taylor?”
He sniggers and smirks at me. “None, babe. I don’t need to tell women shit all to get into their thongs.”
“Not helping your case here, Dyson. Reminding me of all the women you have been with… Not a good move.”
“And what is my case here, Jamie London?” He looks serious all of a sudden, and my stomach sinks. Does he not want the same? Well bollocks.
“Honestly, I don’t really know, Wes. You make me rethink every feeling I have. I never know what to expect with you.” I shrug and walk away to serve another customer before he can say anything. I swear his eyes are on me, because I can feel him staring.
I go about serving the customers, trying my best to ignore the way his stare is making my body feel. I am wet as fuck. My thong is sticking to my bare skin. I rub my thighs together and hear a chuckle to my left. I look down the bar and find Dyson winking at me, a big-arse, sexy smile on his face.
“Fucker,” I mutter. His laughter gets louder, making me smile at him. I serve a couple and glance down at Dyson. He crooks his finger at me, beckoning me to him. I raise an eyebrow at him, and he just gives me the panty-melting smile that people read about in romance novels. I shake my head, smiling at him, but make my way over.
“What can I get you, kind sir?” I add sweetly, resting my forearms on the bar, mirroring his pose.
“You,” he answers instantly.
“All you have to do is ask, Mr Taylor, but you are nowhere near ready to handle me on your own. Or to want to only be with me.” Where the hell did that come from? Am I even ready to be in a serious relationship? I have no fucking clue, but as my aunt Trudy would say,
‘You don’t know shit, until you try new things. So jump and try it on for size.’
“You don't know fuck all about me, Jamie. So you can't stand there, looking sexy as fuck, flashing me that beautiful smile and that sexy as sin body, and think you know what I want or need.” Oh, I think I hit a nerve.
“I’ve seen you in here, giving me the fuck me eyes until some other girl walks past, catching your attention. Today is a perfect example of that.”
“I knew you saw that. She was a friend of EC’s neighbour, who fell, and I caught her. Ask him.” He nods in EC’s direction. I look over to EC and see his face buried in his phone. He’s completely ignoring every woman around him. Hmm, what’s up with that? He’s normally the first lad to be all over the ladies.
“No need to, Wes. I know what I see. You like the variety of ladies too much to settle down.” I straighten up and walk over to Andrew, my heart pounding in my chest. Things were getting intense between us.
“I’m going on a break. I’ll be in my office if you need me.” He looks over my shoulder and gives me a nod. I walk around him, ignoring the looks that Dyson’s brothers are giving me, and head to my office. I need to clear my head and breathe.
What I told Wesley is right. He makes me feel things I haven't felt in a long time. Feelings I forced myself not to feel. I know I’m stronger now than was I was years ago, but that doesn't mean I’m not human. I still have feelings; I just don’t let most of them control my life.
I’m Jamie London, and I am a strong, independent woman, for fucks sake.
I sit on my chair and remove my boots, breathing a sigh of relief. This is why we should break our shoes in, damnit. But they were way too sexy to pass up finishing off my outfit tonight.
Leaning my head back on my chair, I take few deep breaths, centering myself. I scream when he speaks.
“You can’t escape me that easily, baby.”
Dyson
Goddamn, she is one sexy as fuck woman. She drives me crazy with want and need. I need, and definitely want, to be balls deep inside her wet, warm pussy. I bet it feels like total bliss. I watch as she walks over to Andrew and says something to him. His eyes find mine over her shoulder, and he nods.
> Jamie walks out from the bar and through the door that leads to the steps up to her office. I down the rest of my beer before sliding the bottle cross the bar. I stand and walk in the direction of the stairs. Batch catches my gaze and winks at me. I get to the end of the bar and Andrew steps in front of me.
“I know you guys have a history. I can see it in the way you look at each other. We know some of her story, but not all the details. I know she was hurt; badly. I don’t give a flying fuck who you are, or about your club. You hurt her, and I will hurt you. You hear me?”
“I hear you. But you hear me. You ever threaten me or the club again, and believe me, motherfucker, you will be eating through a straw for a very long fucking time.” I sidestep him and make my way up the stairs. I take them two at a time—to get to her quicker. Some things are being settled tonight.
I slowly push the door to her office open. I step inside and see her sitting in her chair. I run my gaze over her stunning body. Her feet are bare, and her legs are crossed, making her mile-long legs look even fucking longer. Her leather skirt has risen up her thighs, showing me more skin. Her head’s back, showing off her sculptured neck, making my tongue water with need to taste her there.
I smirk when I realise she hasn’t heard me come in.
“You can’t escape me that easily, baby.”
She screams and places her hand over her chest, calming her heart. I smirk at her, and her eyes turn from frightened to feisty in a split second. She frowns at me and stands up, walking over to her drinks cabinet, ignoring my presence once again. She has a habit of doing this, and it usually pisses me off, but today I find it amusing.
“I’ll take one,” I order, while taking a seat on her leather sofa. She turns her head to follow me as I take a seat. Her face gives nothing away this time. I bring my ankle up and rest it on my knee, stretching my arm along the back of the sofa, waiting for her to join me with our drinks.