by Amy Davies
These boys are amazing, and I am so bloody grateful to have them at my back and in my life.
“Baby, we’re here.” I blink a few times, not even noticing that we had driven away from the pub. I was in my own head, trying to force the images and the feelings into the dark metal box in the back of my head.
I nod and take his hand. Wesley helps me climb out of the car. A gasp makes my head snap in the direction of the large building that I assume is the clubhouse.
Lola, Ana and Zarah are standing by the main door. Ana has her hand over her mouth, sobbing quietly. Zarah and Lola look pissed. I dread to think how I look right now.
“Come on, babe. Your girls are waiting to push me aside and take care of you. Bunch of mother hens.” He chuckles next to me. We walk together towards the girls, my heart beating rapidly in my chest as we get closer. Besides my aunt Trudy, I haven’t had many females in my life—well, not ones that like me anyway, or show any care.
“Jamie, I’ve phoned Lewis. He and Tom are getting the next available flight home,” Suede says from behind me. I spin around, regretting it when my body hurts. I groan, and Wesley’s arm tightens.
“Why? Why would you do that? They have been planning this trip for years, and now it’s ruined,” I sob. I have ruined their time away, the time they deserve.
“Because they needed to know their daughter has been hurt and will need them. Believe me, sweetheart, they will want to be here. You will understand one day, when you have kids of your own,” he states. I am way too fucking tired and hurting too much to argue with him. I nod and continue walking.
“Oh, my girl.” Lola takes me into her arms, careful of my injuries. “I’m sorry this happened. Let the boys do their thing,” she whispers in my ear, and I nod.
“Please, tell me you got a few hits in?” Zarah asks from her step. I nod.
“Yeah, I know my fists hit something.” I lift my hands and see my knuckles are cut on both.
“Good girl. So fucking proud of you,” Z adds.
“Okay, talk later. We need to get her cleaned up and settled,” Wesley pipes in from next to me. Without waiting for a response, he ushers me inside. I don't have time to take in the big room as he marches us towards his room.
He unlocks it and pushes the door open, nudging me inside gently. I look around the room. It’s very plain and manly. The grey exposed brick is amazing. His bed sits against the main wall, with a dark wooden headboard and base. I love the blue chequered blanket he has on the bed.
He has two bedside tables, with some funky lamps on. There is a large wardrobe matching the bedside tables in the corner, next to the door that leads to an en suite. There are no curtains, just wooden blinds.
I’m going to love staying here, but then a thought flashes in my head. I turn to look at Wesley, who’s pulling a towel out of a hamper. His gaze meets mine when he looks at me.
“What’s wrong?”
“How many women have you shagged in this bed?” He rubs the back of his neck, dropping the towel on the bed.
“In this bed, none. I had Mum get me a new bed after what happened with Yanna,” he explains.
“Are you serious?” he nods.
“I need to go to church to go over a few things. I’ll send the girls in to get you settled after Sully has finished checking you over.” I tense up at the thought of being alone with Sully. I know he would never hurt me—he’s in the club, for fucks sake— but Wesley sees my body tighten, and he steps up to me.
“I’ll have Mum or one of the girls be in here with you. I wish I could, babe, but I need to get shit in place for going after these fuckers.” I nod.
“Shower with me? Please?” I plead. He looks torn. His brow is down, and his lips are pressed tight together. Does he not want to touch me now? Does he think I’m damaged goods?
Tears fill my eyes, and I step away from him. I knew he wouldn't want me after what they did. I had hoped he would, but clearly my hope wasn't enough. He frowns and tries to catch my hand, but I step back again.
“Go. I’ll shower. I’ll—” A knock on the door interrupts my words.
“Don't move,” Wesley demands. He walks over to the door, pulling it open. Sully is there with a large medical bag in hand.
“I just wanted to drop off some painkillers for you. Do you want me to check you over now or after you’ve showered?”
“Now. Then I’ll shower. I feel grimy, and I wanna wash everything away.”
“Baby, I need to ask this. Did they rape you?” Wes asks, his jaw tight, waiting for my answer. I shake my head.
“No.” I look at the gaze on him. I see him let out a deep breath.
“Okay, good, now let me get this over with.” Sully adds.
Sully checks over my injuries. The worst is the cut on my head that needed some stitches. I just have to be careful not to get them wet. Sully leaves right after he’s finished, leaving me and Wesley in his room alone. He didn’t say anything during the check-up, just sat there looking on.
“I’m having a shower. You can go down and do whatever you need to do. Send the girls in,” I rasp, my throat hurting from all the crying and talking.
“I’ll stay. Come on,” he orders. I hesitate to go with him, but he slides his hand into mine and tows me towards the bathroom. He turns the shower on, waiting for the water to warm up. Steam fills the room, and Wesley turns to face me.
“Up,” is all he says, motioning for me to lift my arms so he can strip me out of the t-shirt. I lift them up, wincing as he helps me out of the material and bra I’m wearing. My skirt is covered in blood from the cut on my head. He removes my skirt, sliding it to the floor with the rest of my clothes.
I’m now standing naked in front of the man I love, and I haven’t even told him yet. I stand and watch as Wesley removes his clothes, dropping them with mine.
He helps me in and climbs in after me. The water washes over my body, soothing my aching muscles. I tilt my head back, letting the water cascade over my face. I angle my head, so the water doesn’t come into contact with my wound.
No words are spoken between us. The quiet is needed for us to process what has happened. I feel the soft touch of his hands on my hips, before they slide around to my stomach. I look down and see his hands are covered in bubbles from the shower gel. The smell of Wesley Taylor fills my senses as his hands softly run over my body, washing the grime and the fucking men off me.
I know the bruises will be more prominent tomorrow.
His hands slide over my ribs, and I wince from the soreness. He lays a featherlight kiss on my neck, making me shiver. Another kiss before his hands move from my body.
He leans over and picks up the shampoo bottle, washing my hair, massaging my scalp, careful of my stitches. My moans fill the room. Not a sexual moan, but one of relief. Wesley turns me to face him and backs me up under the water to rinse my hair.
It’s my turn to wash him. I know he was working in the garage before he came and found me. The feeling of him next to me makes me feel safe, proving that the three wankers who shall never be named again have not ruined me, ruined us. I refuse to allow it.
Lifting my head, our gazes lock. I smile up at him, then wince when my two cuts hurt.
“God, you are beautiful.” I go up on my tiptoes and kiss his lips, his stubble rubbing against my skin.
“I love you, Wesley Taylor,” I tell him. He stays silent for a beat, making my heartrate pick up. Does he not love me? The smile that crosses his face is enough to make a thousand suns look dull.
“I love you, too, Jamie London. So fucking much.” He kisses me before he continues. “I was so fucking scared when I saw you. The blood…” He shakes his head, his face full of anguish. “It’s my fault they got to you. You left the door unlocked for me, and they used that to get in and hurt you.” His voice breaks with emotion. I wrap my arms around his body, my breasts flush against his hard chest.
“You didn't leave a sign on the door saying the door was unlocked and to let t
hemselves in and beat me. This is not your fault, Wesley. Do you hear me?”
“Jamie, I—”
“No,” I yell. “You are not at fault here. I do not blame you for this. This,” I motion at my body, “is not your fault. They did this. They hurt me. I will never let them win. Never.” My voice is louder than when I started, but I need him to hear me and hear me good. He is not to blame for anything that happened.
* * *
He wraps me up in his arms and holds me tight. I feel safe when I’m in his arms. I know he will never let anyone hurt me.
Four hours later, I’m sitting on Wesley’s bed, chatting with Ana and Zarah. These girls are fucking hilarious, and I love them. We’re watching some random shit on TV, but none of us are really paying attention.
“So, have you told Dyson that you love him?” Ana asks, popping another piece of popcorn in her mouth. Thank fucking God they brought me popcorn.
Sweet popcorn solves everything.
Some women love chocolate, or ice cream. It has to be popcorn for me.
“I have. We were in the shower, and he was cleaning me up when I told him. It kind of slipped out, but it was perfect for us.”
“Did he say it back?” Zarah asks. I nod, making Ana squeal in delight. Ana is such a fucking romantic. How the hell does Ace keep up with her?
“It wasn’t hearts and flowers, but it was Jamie and Wesley,” I add.
“Awww, that’s so sweet.” Her voice is all dreamy.
“Nothing about Dyson is sweet, Smallie. That man is pure fucking sex,” Zarah adds, laughing and taking a drink of her can of Pepsi.
“Now that, I agree with.” I wink at Ana, and she blushes. “How the fuck can you blush when you’re with a man like Ace McGowan? That man is raw sex as well.”
I know what you’re all thinking. How the fucking hell is she acting normal after she was beaten? Well, you see, I’m acting normal so these girls can’t see the utter terror that is racing through my head. Only Wesley calms my thoughts.
Like I told Dyson, I will not let the fuckers win. Not ever. So I will do what I always do: file the act away and deal with it one page at a time, so I don't overwhelm myself.
The bedroom door swings open, making us jump. My heart skips a beat, until I lay my eyes on my old man. Wow. It’s strange to say that. But I wouldn’t have it any other way.
“I love you, but I need you out, ladies. I need some time with my old lady.” Ana and Zarah don't waste time in climbing off the bed and hugging me goodbye.
I look his body over, checking for injuries. When my gaze lifts to his face, I see him smile at me, but it isn't the typical sexy smile he gives me. It’s a sinister smile, with a hint of lust.
“What happened?” I enquire.
“It’s done. They won’t ever touch you, or any other woman, again.” His smile shows how much he enjoyed hurting them, or worse. He steps up to me, cupping my cheek. I lean into his touch, loving the contact between us.
“How bad?” His eyes bounce between mine, watching for a reaction as he tells me.
“As bad as it can get.” I nod and pull him to me.
“Tell me.”
“We found them in a pub a town over. Click tracked their phones. We have a place where we take scumbags and deal with them. They each got what was coming to them. We each took a turn at using them as a punching bag. Then Court, being the fucked-up Court we all know and love, decided to take it one step further. And on that, I am not giving you the details.”
“Okay. Thank you, Wesley. For everything.”
I lift my hands up to his chest and over his shoulders, slowly removing his club cut. I hang it on the chair before returning to him, showing my respect to him as my old man, and to his club. I slowly remove his bloodied clothes, undressing him.
Just like the earlier shower, there isn't anything sexual between us as we strip. This is a woman taking care of her man, just like he took care of me earlier. Again, no words are spoken as I lead him to the bathroom to have a shower, to get all the blood and grime off him.
I wash him, and he washes me... again. Our gazes stay connected throughout the shower, the love pouring between us. I kiss his chest and wrap my arms around him, holding him to me.
Once we’re clean and dried off, we climb into his bed naked. I need his touch to remind me of what I have. Wesley Taylor came into my life when I least expected it.
“I love you, Wesley.”
“I fucking love you, too, baby.”
I tried protecting my heart—and vagina—but the bastard got into both, and he’s here to stay. I wouldn’t want it any other way.
Jamie
It has been three weeks since I was attacked, and I’m healing nicely—well, as nicely as a repeatedly beaten woman can be. I still wince if I move my shoulders a certain way. The staff have been great, helping me with everything at the pub.
Wesley has been bloody amazing with me. How the hell did I get so lucky to have him in my life again, and to keep him?
The whole club has been fantastic with me, helping me heal, being there for anything I need. Ana, Zarah, and even Lola have come around to keep me company at my place, because I was unable to go back to work for two weeks and Wesley had to leave and do a quick run for the club.
Lola is like the mother I never had. Don’t get me wrong, I love my dads, but having a motherly figure in my life means so much to me. Aunt Trudy always made sure I knew she was my aunt and not my mother, but Lola… Oh hell, that woman is epic. I wanna be like her when I grow up.
“Baby, you okay?” Dyson’s voice snaps me from my thoughts about the past few weeks. I look over to him and smile at the handsome man standing next to the bed. I didn’t even hear him come home.
Dyson moved in with me straight away after what happened. He said he couldn’t go another night not sleeping next to me, or another morning not waking up wrapped up in me.
Soppy bastard.
A few days after he dealt with the ‘TDC’, he proudly told me that I gave one of them a black eye, and a possible broken nose to another. I remember fighting wildly, throwing my hands and legs out, hitting anything I came into contact with. I was not going down without a fight.
“I’m good, handsome. Did you get what you wanted?” He winks at me and leaves the room. I frown when I hear him running down the stairs, before running back up a few minutes later. Keeping my eyes on the door, I sit and wait for him to return, which, luckily for me, isn’t too long. Dyson walks in carrying a large, black cardboard box with a white bow on it.
“What’s that?” I nod at the box. He lifts it a little and answers me.
“What, this?”
“Yeah, that, Wes.”
“Open it and find out.” He smirks at me. He lays the box on my lap, and I jump into pulling the bow open and lifting the lid. My eyes widen when I see what’s nestled inside, under the white tissue paper. The smell of leather hits my nose, and my eyes fill with tears.
Property of Dyson
The property patch blinks at me, screaming for me to put her on. So I do. I pull the leather cut out of the box and climb to my knees, sliding the leather over my shoulders. It feels cool against my skin.
“Damn, babe, you look fucking sexy wearing my patch. Now you need the ink, baby.” He winks at me. Ana told me about the property tattoo old ladies are expected to get. I’ve already designed mine, and I can’t wait to get it.
“So, you like?” I twist my body side to side, showing off my new cut. I’m wearing a white camisole, sans bra, and black boy shorts. I wink at Wesley and turn my back to him, so he can get the full view of me wearing his patch.
I flick my hair and look over my shoulder at him, biting my index finger, pulling off the sexy look—I hope.
His gaze rakes over me, taking in every inch. He adjusts his dick in his jeans, before a booming laugh breaks from him. I smile at him, knowing what he’s noticed. On the back of my boy shorts, it says,
It ain’t gonna kiss itself
&
nbsp; “Sexy, right?” I say, wiggling my eyebrows.
“Yeah, baby. Sexy. I wish I could kiss it, bite it, and fuck it right now, but I have one other thing for you.” He jumps off the bed and leaves the room again, only to return seconds later carrying another box. What the hell?
“What's that?” I nod to the box.
“What, this?” he says, lifting the box.
“Yes, Wes.”
I giggle when I realise we just repeated the same lines just minutes ago with my first gift. He winks at me and sets the box next to me. I’m still on my knees, so when I lift the top of the box, I can see straight inside. I gasp, and my gaze snaps to Wesley.
“No way?” I reach inside and pull out the most adorable brown and white boxer pup. I lift him out and hold him to me. His fur is super soft and fluffy.
“You like him, babe?” Wesley asks.
“Oh, handsome, I love him. Thank you. What’s his name?”
“That’s up to you. He’s eleven weeks old.” Wesley comes and sits next to me, so I shift to sit on my arse. I can’t seem to stop rubbing my nose against his fur. The pup licks me, causing me to laugh.
“That is what I live for.” I twist my head to look at him.
“What is?”
“To see you smile and to make you laugh every day.” Oh, for fucks sake. There he goes again, making my heart and knickers melt. I lean in and kiss his lips, loving the feel of his stubble.
“You soppy git, Dyson. You also love to make me come.” I wink at him. He pulls a proud face and agrees with me.
“True. Baby, check his collar is still there. The little shit was biting it earlier.” I move so I can see the pup’s collar better, and I suck in a breath that literally catches in my throat.
“Wesley,” I whisper. Wesley moves, removing the item that has my heart fluttering. Fucking fluttering.
“You are the strongest woman I know—please don't tell Mum I said that; she will slap me upside the head.” I giggle through the tears. “Not good with pretty words and shit, so I’ll keep it simple. Will you marry me, Jamie? Will you become Jamie Taylor?”