by Bourne, Lena
4
Ace
I have no doubt this room she brought me to is actually her bedroom, and not some communal room where the girls bring the club members to take care of them. It smells like her and shabby as it is, it contains comforts that can only be found in a woman’s bedroom, such as too many pillows on the bed that’s neatly made and complete with a useless, but pretty comforter, and the curtains on the bottom of it, that I never knew the real purpose of, except to make it even more of a chore to change the sheets. The single chair by the small window is almost buried under a mound of her clothes. The only other piece of furniture in the room is a little table with a cracked mirror over it standing against one wall. It’s strewn with make-up stuff and creams, but somehow it all comes across as cozy and not messy.
She smiles over her shoulder once we’re standing next to her bed. It’s an inviting smile but somehow sad at the same time, and it makes me doubt the wiseness of coming here with her more than I was already doubting it. Horse clearly has some sort of claim on her, and I challenged it tonight, no doubt about it. He couldn’t say no to me when I asked for her, since as far as he and everyone else in this club is concerned, I saved the guy’s life a couple of hours ago. But that doesn’t mean he liked to give way to me. What it does mean is that he’s less my friend now. And I am here to make friends, not get laid.
“Why so quiet?” she asks in a seductive little voice, which somehow sounds fake to me, making me even surer that this is a bad idea. Maybe I should just go back out there and find my way back into Horse’s good graces.
She lays her hands on my shoulders and pushes me down to sit on the bed just as I shrug in answer to her question.
“Don’t you like me anymore?” she asks, as she starts to peel up the tight tank top she’s wearing. The bright red bra underneath it is nothing but lace, and her hard, erect nipples are perfectly visible in the center of her perfectly round breasts. My already rock hard dick grows even harder just from thinking about kissing them. I bet her moans are sweet enough to die for.
But all that’s just my dick’s reaction, totally independent to the one playing out in the logical part of my mind. The blood red color of her bra reminds me so much of the rose that’s the centerpiece of the Devil’s Nightmare MC colors—my colors, the mark of my family—I’m frozen. I didn’t even get started on this job Cross set me, and I’m already fucking up. And I have no idea how to fix it.
“I’m just real tired,” I say since she’s clearly waiting for me to say something. “It’s been a long day.”
That’s not even a lie. I feel like I sometimes do after not sleeping for a couple of days on a job, with the addition of something akin to a boulder resting on my chest.
“Relax then,” she says with a coy grin. Her lips may be stretched out in a smile, but that’s desperation in her eyes, and I have no fucking idea what that’s all about. Nor the energy to try and figure it out.
Might as well do what she’s suggesting.
She kneels down between my legs and starts tugging at my belt. “I’ll make you feel better, don’t worry.”
She has my belt undone, but I grab her hand to stop her fumbling with the zipper of my jeans, unsure why. My dick’s throbbing hard, I’d like nothing better than to feel her hot, wet mouth on it, but the whole thing also feels like she’s doing it because she has to, not because she really wants to. I’d rather not antagonize Horse and jeopardize my mission here for a woman who’s only letting me fuck her because she has no other choice.
“You don’t have to do this,” I tell her.
“I want to,” she replies with a smile, but doesn’t move her hands, which I’m still holding onto. I like the warmth and softness of them against my palm, and I want to feel them against my cock too, so why am I fighting it? She’s smiling, she’s on her knees, she’s willing.
“I do. Trust me,” she says and chuckles, her golden eyes fixed on mine. “If it weren’t for you, I’d be tasting my own blood right now, while smiling as I whored myself out to those yuppies. Being here with you is much better.”
Now that’s not playacting. This girl is hot-as-hell on the outside, and this brutal honesty of hers just completes the package perfectly.
“Thanks for standing up for me like that,” she says, looking down at her hands still enclosed in mine over my crotch, then glancing back up at me.
“I don’t suffer women getting hit in my presence,” I tell her. “And I do something about it when I can.”
She grins, but her eyes remain sad. “Well, if that’s the case, then you’ll have your hands full around here then.”
“I’ll do what I can,” I say. It’s an apology of sorts, I guess, since to get close to the Sinners I’ll probably have to look the other way from now on. It’s a hell of a price to pay to help my brothers, but damn me, no one said this would be easy.
“Now let me do what I can,” she says, smiling again as she undoes the zipper of my jeans.
I take my hand away and let her, walling away all the reasons why getting close to her is a bad idea. That ship has sailed, might as well ride it.
She gasps as she frees my dick—appreciatively, I think—and looks up into my eyes seductively, her lust overshadowing even the sadness that’s always just beneath the surface of her eyes, no matter what other expression might be there. She wraps her soft, warm palm around the shaft and hefts it, making me groan as the gentle warmth of her palm meets the raging fire of my lust.
“Nice,” she whispers as she bites her bottom lip.
I chuckle, more than a small part of me flattered like a teenager by her appreciation of my size. Idiotic. But there’s an innocence and basic honesty in this woman that I’m not used to seeing in the women I normally spend time with, and it’s both refreshing and seductive as hell.
She bends down, her hot breath hitting the throbbing head of my dick a second before her soft lips touch it, and I damn near come just from that. But I’m far from being a teenager with that kinda problem. As she takes the head of my cock in her warm little mouth, I can hardly remember why I ever thought this was a bad idea. It’s the best idea I’ve had all year. Possibly the whole decade.
She’s here, she’s soft and pleasant and willing, and she’s damn good at giving blowjobs. Best I ever had. Or at least better than all the blowjobs I’ve gotten that I can remember.
Soon, there’s no more room for thinking among the sensations her lips and her tongue, her wet mouth and even her teeth grazing my dick are stirring in me. No room for anything but surrendering to her talents completely. I doubt any guy could do otherwise, and I’m certainly not that guy.
I lean back, and close my eyes, grateful now for the surplus of pillows on her bed that let me relax completely into the pleasure that is her mouth on my dick. She knows what she’s doing. There’s no gagging, no rushing, just a flow of goodness, as she works my cock like a pro. I bet her pussy would be even better than this. Or maybe as good as, because better than this blowjob would have to be a unicorn.
She moans softly from time to time, the sound sweet enough to make the hair on my arms stand up. Here and there she takes a deep breath past my dick, waking a slew of new sensations. She’s all in this blowjob, moans, mouth, lips, tongue, even her warm hand massaging my balls, or working the parts of my dick her mouth can’t reach. I’m so close all I see is release. I wish this could go all night, but it won’t.
With a different woman, or a less perfect blowjob, I’d grab the back of her head right about now and bury my dick deep in her throat as I cum, but her, I tell her it’s gonna happen. Not something I remember doing with any other woman, except maybe way in the beginning.
She doesn’t take her lips off my dick, or change the rhythm of what she was doing. Nor does she jerk back as my cum spills into her mouth. She takes it all, letting my pulsing dick rest against her tongue as I come harder than I remember coming in a very long time. I can’t feel my legs, it’s that strong. Man, where did this perfect littl
e fox come from?
“That was something else,” I tell her once my dick is spent and she releases it. I climb higher up on the bed and burrow deeper into the pillows.
“Yeah? You liked it?” she asks as she climbs on the bed too, lying down at my side.
“Yeah,” I assure her, promising myself I’ll just close my eyes for a couple of seconds to savor this complete release her warm little mouth gave me. Then I’ll sample her pussy and recreate it.
* * *
Stormi
The second he closes his eyes, he’s hard asleep, out like a light. Normally, with another guy, I’d be thanking my lucky stars that all it took to put him to sleep was a short blowjob, but I enjoyed giving it this time. So much so that my pussy is wet and throbbing, and I wish he was awake to take care of it. But I guess I got real good at giving blowjobs these last six months. It’s my last line of defense against getting fucked by the men I have to take care of here.
There haven’t been many other men, besides Horse, since I think they all assume I belong to him, but that’s starting to change. More and more often, he’s been ordering me to take care of this one, or that one. I’m still pretending that’s not my life now. That I’m not a complete whore yet. Is that what I’m doing with Ace? Pretending I like him and want him so I won’t feel like a whore when I’m with him?
I feel like the answer’s no, but that could be a pretense too.
All my prodding and coaxing as I tried to wake him up did was get him all the way up on the bed, and then I nearly ripped the comforter trying to get it from under him to cover us both. But I managed it, and it’s very cozy now, as I lay under it next to him, with his even breaths filling the room, and his strong, solid presence warming my bed.
I’ll sleep well tonight. Safe. Protected. Everything’s gonna be alright now, everything’ll be just fine from here on out, now that he’s in my bed.
What a dumb load of crap to think!
The harsh thought rouses me completely, sends my heart racing and makes my eyes sting with unshed tears. Tears I refuse to shed over the shit I’ve landed myself in.
Sure, he protected me from Horse tonight. Sure, he was kind to me. And sure, I’ll like his cock inside me very much when it happens.
But it might not.
He’ll probably be gone tomorrow and then what?
Then I’ll still be right back here in this shithole that I dug for myself.
But the right now is so nice. I don’t have to worry about any of that crap. I can just enjoy it while it lasts. He’s warm and he’s a strong and powerful presence next to me, even in sleep. He saved me from Horse’s temper and hatred tonight, and showed me there’s still guys in this world who get my blood boiling, who can wake my fire, desire and passion. That’s a bigger and better gift than any I’ve ever been given.
Even if he’s gone tomorrow, I know I’ll survive. Know it like I haven’t known it in months.
I can enjoy this safe coziness tonight, I can let all the sweet might-have-beens and could-bes lull me to sleep. A time so long ago, when Misti and me were just little girls, we’d cozy up in our beds in the evening and grandma would read to us until we fell asleep. This feels like those evenings did. All I hear is his steady, even breaths, but there’s a story at the edges of them, one I wish was louder and clearer, but I can almost just hear it despite that. And I’ll take what I can get.
5
Ace
A loud noise like a door banging shut woke me, but all is quiet when I open my eyes. What I can see of the sky outside her tiny window is still more dark than light. Stormi slept right through the noise. In sleep, she looks even younger and softer, and not even her messed up mascara is marring the vision. Two black streaks of it are running down her cheeks, but they’re dry and caked. They might not be from crying.
She pressed herself real close to me, and even draped my arm around herself, or maybe I did that in my sleep, reacting to her closeness.
I don’t want to let her go. I don’t even want to wake her. I just want to stay right here, just like this until she wakes up on her own, and we can continue what my falling asleep last night cut short.
But the sensible part knows I better not dwell on any of that. I should just get up without waking her, leave and never return. She’s clearly Horse’s woman. Most likely she’s what some guys—none of them friends of mine—consider their property. And if I’m to make friends with him, I better not mess with anything that’s his in that way.
She stirs and takes a deeper breath as I extricate myself from her embrace, but thankfully doesn’t wake up. I don’t have much dressing to do, all I got to do is zip up my jeans and put on my boots, which she considerately removed for me after I was already asleep. Not all chance-encountered women I’ve been with would do that, so beside her world-class blow job skills, her pretty face and soft curves, that’s yet another plus in her favor that I shouldn’t dwell on.
I leave her room without looking back at her one last time, which doesn’t help with the regret over my decision to leave her bed.
The sound that woke me might’ve just been in my head, because the clubhouse and courtyard are deathly quiet, and I hear no sound coming from inside the bar either. I pull the door open and enter, hoping to find some coffee to brew for myself.
The bar is deserted, just as I hoped it would be. The only light is the faint bluish one over the bar, and the smells of the party last night—cigarette smoke, spilled booze, cheap perfume and sweat—are still lingering nauseatingly in the room. More than once, broken glass crunches under my feet as I approach the bar in semi-darkness. My aunt would never go to sleep before she at least swept her place up and wiped down the tables. Nor would she ever let it get this nasty and dirty in the first place. Here, some of the tables are still littered with empty bottles and glasses and no one’s even gotten started on emptying the ashtrays, let alone done any sweeping up. The urge to do it myself is strong. It comes from the way my aunt and uncle raised me, and I do my best to push it back down into the depths of my mind where all of that belongs. But not before those memories manage to cut me.
Besides, me sweeping up this place would probably get me thrown out of here before I was even done with the first pass. I’ve only seen a little bit of the way things are done around here, but I think I can say with certainty that the men don’t do much around here. Even making my own coffee would probably be frowned upon, but there’s no helping that. I need a coffee, and I need to be here when the rest of them wake up, so I can start wheedling my way into their confidence. Last night with Stormi is probably gonna cost me, but that can’t be changed now.
I find the coffee in a rusty tin can way behind two rows of unopened whiskey bottles, but it smells fresh. The coffee maker is also the cleanest thing behind this bar. I get a batch going. Just as I’m pouring myself the first cup the side door, the one that leads to Griff’s office, opens.
I glance in that direction to see the old man himself walk in.
“Handy in a fight and handy behind the bar,” he says in mock appreciation. “Pour me one of those too, will you?”
I nod and let out the breath I was holding over what I figured had to be another slip up on my part.
He takes a seat on a bar stool, and watches me as I search for another clean cup.
“Here you go,” I say as I set the cup down in front of him.
“Join me,” he says, kicking out the bar stool next to his.
I do. He spends a tense couple of minutes just staring at me. The smell of the coffee rising from our mugs is driving me insane with wanting to taste it, but I won’t break eye contact with him for a mundane thing like taking a sip of coffee. He’s appraising me, that much is clear from the expression in his eyes, but what he’s actually thinking, not so much.
After what feels like hours, he finally averts his eyes and takes a swallow of his coffee. I manage to drink some of mine too before he fixes me with his eyes again.
“You got nowhere to cal
l home, am I right?” he asks pointedly. “But you’d like to have a home again.”
I nod. “I’ve been on the run and hiding for almost two years now. As for finding a home again, I don’t think much about that. I’ll think about it when I get my revenge on the Devils. So it’s not so much home I’m looking for, it’s back-up.”
At least those cutting memories of mine are good for one thing. They’re good for making what I just said sound believable. I wasn’t even twenty-one years old when I spoke these same words to Cross and meant them.
I look at him pointedly, letting the unspoken question of, Are you that backup? show plainly on my face.
He chuckles and takes another sip of his coffee. I leave mine untouched.
“As you saw for yourself last night, both of my sons are complete fuckups, and they can’t really take care of themselves very well yet,” he says, changing the subject for god knows what reason. I dare not move a muscle that he could interpret as agreeing with his statement right now. They’re his sons. He can call them fuckups, but I’m sensing that no one else better do that in his hearing.
“I spoke to the guy I sent with them to watch their backs last night. The one they just left behind at the mercy of the Devils, who we both know have no mercy,” he says and I nod this time.
“He told me it was serious. He’s sure Horse and Piston would be dead as doornails, if you hadn’t stepped in. You have my gratitude for that,” he says and extends his hand for me to shake, which I solemnly do.
“I would’ve said as much last night, but they were right there, and they left old Brick behind, so I couldn’t show them how I really felt about them escaping certain death,” he continues, pausing to chuckle. “Like I said, they’re fuckups, but they’re my sons and they mean the world to me.”