No, of course I didn’t, but I expected he’d go to prison. But they don’t like involving the police. Instead, they meted out their own brand of punishment, extreme in my view, but it doesn’t necessarily mean they go around killing at random and for no reason. Perhaps it’s not good to let my imagination run wild. Perhaps Horse is right. If I gave Wraith a chance to explain, maybe I’d be able to understand him and the life he lives a little better. As an answer, I reach to the bedside table and get my phone.
Wheels: Can we talk?
I stare at the phone, willing him to respond, suddenly having a vision of him being with Chrissy or one of the other whores, or perhaps a Tucson girl has caught his eye? My gut clenches as I realise how much that thought hurts.
Horse pats my hand as my phone remains silent. A short while later, I give up looking at the screen and put it back where it was on the bedside table.
“Well, so much for…” I break off as I hear it vibrating on the wood and the accompanying ping.
Wraith: Be right there.
Chapter Fifteen
Wraith…
“What did she think we were gonna do to that motherfucker?” I ask Peg, realising how much I’ve fucked this up.
Peg moves his head side to side. “She isn’t from here, is she? The club, heck, the United States is completely alien to her. You need to speak to her, explain.”
“Doubt I’m going to get the chance.” She’d looked so disgusted with me, as if I was something she’d scrape off her shoe.
“Why’d you tell her?” Drummer’s scrunched up eyes show his displeasure. “She knows too much now.”
His words chill me. He doesn’t have to spell the ramifications out. “She’s not gonna tell anyone.” Well, I think I’m certain on that, but there’s a part of me acknowledging maybe I’m just hopeful. “I didn’t mean to tell her, it just came out when Horse and I were getting into it. I didn’t come right out and say it, but she read between the lines.”
“You got to make sure she’s gonna keep quiet.” Drum’s normal level of irritation has increased to the point where I know it’s the real thing.
How the fuck do I do that? “Who would she tell? She’s here at the compound, she won’t be going out anywhere alone.”
Drum’s eyes open wide and a vein visibly throbs in his forehead. “She’s got a fuckin’ phone, hasn’t she?” His hand thumps down on the bar. “Get back to her and sort this mess out, VP. Make her see sense.” He doesn’t need to add what the implications are of me failing to do so.
Stretching my head back on my neck and rolling my shoulders, I think there’s nothing I’d like to do more. But will she even listen to me? Before I can say anything else, my phone vibrates in my pocket. I read the message and respond, a tentative smile on my face.
Slapping Drum on the back I tell him, “I’m gonna see her now.”
“About fuckin’ time,” he grunts.
It only takes a few minutes to get to her room, and that’s not enough time to decide how I’m going to approach what needs to be said. It’s one thing to try and explain why Buster had to meet Satan, it’s quite another to clarify that it’s likely she’ll be going the same way if the members don’t trust her. I’m just hoping I can stop it from going that far. Fuck.
On the way into their suite, I find Horse waiting for me, pacing the small connecting seating area. “Don’t you fucking hurt her,” he starts. “I’m trusting you, Wraith.”
In response, I glare at him. He knows how the club works, and the penalties for exposing club business, but how can he think I’d harm her? I raise my chin, acknowledging what he’s said. For a few seconds we have a standoff, then, with a small shake of his head he steps aside, allowing me to enter.
Walking across to her bedroom door I knock on it lightly. After I hear her voice, I go inside.
Closing the door behind me, I lean with my back up against it and watch her warily, trying to assess her mood. Her head’s bowed and she’s using her blonde hair like a shield, though I’m still able to see her eyes are red and watery, and I hate that I’ve made her cry.
“Oh, Wheels…” I go over to her, kneeling in front of her and taking her hands in mine.
She pulls away from my touch. “My name’s Sophie,” she tells me firmly. “I’ve nothing to do with the MC.”
Staying where I am, I look down while gathering my thoughts together. “You might have been here for getting on a couple of months, but you still don’t know much about us, or our lifestyle, do you?”
Her eyes flare. “Your club business? Oh no, no one’s told me about that. But I know about how you use women, the club whores, the girls from the city. Now I know you kill people.”
Pulling myself to my feet, I indicate the bed. She shrugs, and I take that as permission to sit. I don’t get too close to her just yet. Putting my elbows on my knees, I cup my face in my hands, stroking my beard. “We’re a one-percenter motorcycle club, Wheels.” She might hate the name, but it has kind of stuck. “We have our own rules that we live by. We don’t recognise citizens’ rules.”
Her brow creases, so I continue, “Citizens are what you are, anyone not part of the club or our lifestyle.”
“Outlaws.” She spits out the word as though even saying it leaves a nasty taste in her mouth.
I ignore the way she’s said it, just confirm that she’s right. “Yeah, we live outside the law.”
“So you’re admitting what you do is illegal?”
“Not going to lie to you, babe, and tell you we’re whiter than white. But we run a lot of legit businesses—the strip club, a steakhouse, a construction company, and the garage. Most of the members work in one or another. Some things aren’t so legit, but that’s club business and I won’t be telling you about that. I can assure you that neither the club whores nor the city girls are forced to do anything they don’t want to do, that’s a given. They come because they want to be here. Nor do we go around randomly killing people. That’s not who we are, darlin’.”
Throwing a sneer at me as I refer to our more nefarious dealings, she goes quiet for a moment. When she starts speaking again, she gets to the point. “I don’t know what I expected you to do about Buster, but I didn’t expect you to kill him.”
“I never said we did.”
“Not in so many words, but you implied—”
“I said things I shouldn’t have.” I pull on my beard. “I regret that.”
“Why?” she snaps. “Because you didn’t want me to know the sort of men you are?”
“No,” I rasp back, “because you didn’t need to know and what you don’t know can’t hurt you. Look,” I run my hands down my face, “let me try and explain how we work. Not just anyone can join the club. Someone wants to, well they need to be sponsored as a prospect, and while they’re prospecting they do anything they are asked without question, usually for at least a year, and sometimes more. If they prove their loyalty to the club and their willingness to do anything for the club, even give their lives if necessary, they become members. Once a member, you’re a member for life, and members do whatever’s needed for the club, including dying for it if necessary. There’s no getting out, or not very often. Unless you’re kicked out, and that isn’t pretty.”
She’s mumbling, and I have to ask her to speak up. “It sounds more like a prison sentence. What’s the benefit?”
That’s easy. “The club is a family, and we call each other ‘brother’ as that’s what we are to each other, brothers. Maybe not related by blood, but just as close―if not closer―than if we were. We’d give our lives for each other…” I pause and then tell her the plain truth of it, “And for those under our protection.”
Her eyes flash. “I’d never ask that…”
“I know you wouldn’t. I’d have hoped it would never come to it, but that’s what we sign up for when we join the MC. That’s why we take the betrayal of a brother so hard.” I pause again. “The Satan’s Devils may not be saints, but we don’t hurt wo
men. We run a strip club, yeah, but the strippers are salaried dancers, not prostitutes. We don’t trade in flesh. I’m not gonna lie to you, some MCs do, but not the Satan’s Devils.”
She shudders and I move a little closer to her. “What did you want? To get the law involved? D‘you know what would have happened if you’d reported Buster to the cops?” It’s a rhetorical question, so I don’t wait for her answer. “I’ll tell you. They’d have looked into it, sure, but it would have been a question of whether they believed you or accepted my story as the witness. He might have been arrested, been taken to court. He might have got himself a fancy lawyer and got away with that shit. And you’d be dragged through the mill. They might not have been able to bring up anything in your sexual past in court, but a clever counsel could have found ways of alluding to it. They could probably make a virgin look promiscuous.”
She turns her face to mine and looks at me properly for the first time since I entered the room. Her hand comes up to touch my face. “He could have got away with it? That’s what you’re saying? So your form of justice made sure he was punished?”
“Yeah, babe. Perhaps not the citizen way, but we made sure Buster wouldn’t hurt another woman ever again.”
Again she goes quiet for a moment, and then asks, “How did he get into the MC if you’re all about keeping women safe?”
That’s a good question, and I think on it for a moment. “He transferred in from the San Diego chapter several months ago. To be honest, they seemed well rid of his shit. From what I knew of him, he’d never have gotten his patch if he prospected here.”
“It’s all so strange to me, Wraith.”
“It must be, darlin’. It must be.”
Now I can’t help myself. I pull her toward me but feel a slight resistance as she tries to keep a distance between us. But from the intent expression on her face, she’s not trying to evade my touch, she’s got something else to say.
“I hate being so helpless, Wraith. If I’d been able to move, I might have been able to get away or to fight. I’ve been here thinking about it.” She touches my beard with her hand, an almost unconscious action. “I don’t want to be so weak and defenceless anymore. I’m going to work on getting my strength back once I’ve got my new prosthesis. It was my vulnerability that made him think I was easy game.”
I can’t help but admire her. She’s fighting back, not letting what happened defeat her. “I’ll give you all the help I can, darlin’.”
“And Wraith?”
“What is it, babe?”
“I want something to defend myself with—a gun or a knife—some sort of weapon.” She looks down at her hands and then glances up. “I suppose, if I could have, I’d have killed him to keep him from touching me.” She gives a short self-deprecating laugh. “Which makes me no better than you.”
“Heat of the moment, darlin’. You might have been able to if you had to defend yourself, but someone like you wouldn’t do anything in cold blood.” And that’s the difference between us. Not that my blood had been anything but red hot when we dispatched Buster.
As she considers my words, I reach down to my waistband and extract the knife I carry there and press it into her hands. “Not gonna give you a gun, darlin’, not until I’ve taught you how to use it. But for now, keep this close if it makes you feel safer.”
She stares at the weapon I’ve placed in her hands, and I can almost see her thinking what she’d have done had she had it on hand the previous night.
“Darlin’,” I start, but she puts her fingers to my mouth, and I have to resist flicking out my tongue to taste them.
“I won’t say a word about what’s happened. I won’t get your club into any trouble.” The determination in her face makes the breath leave my body and my tension rolls away at the words I needed to hear. The assurance that protects both her and the club.
Turning to face her, I take the hand that’s touching my face and hold it firmly in mine. With my free hand I stroke her hair, then fist it, pulling her toward me. “I want you.” I force myself to ignore the gash on her face left by Buster’s ring. There’s no place for him here, not anymore.
She takes a sharp breath, her pupils dilate, and I can feel her pulse beating fast. “I’m scared,” she admits, honestly.
I know without her telling me she hasn’t been with a man since her accident, and even without Peg’s earlier warning, I know the reason for her fear. Talking about it isn’t going to cut it. I have to show that I’m not going to reject her just because she’s not complete anymore. Keeping my eyes fixed firmly on hers, and a tight hold of her hair so she can’t get away, I release her hand and move mine down, over her body, running it down her leg until I reach the stump. As she gasps, I softly trace the injured limb through the material of her jeans with my hand.
“It won’t put me off, babe,” I murmur into her ear as she tries to move. “It’s part of you.”
While she’s trying to comprehend what I’m saying, I allow her no more time to think. I move my mouth over hers. Teasing her with a gentle touch, then becoming more forceful, pushing my tongue against her lips until she opens and lets me inside. Still fisting her hair, I strengthen my grasp so she’s no chance to get away. If she fought me, I’d let her go, but she doesn’t, and I know tonight she needs me to take control. As she begins to respond to my kiss, our mouths mash. She tastes so sweet as our tongues slide together and our teeth clash. The odour of arousal starts to pervade the room. She wants me too.
Releasing her leg, I sweep my hand up to her breasts, feeling them through her shirt. Her nipples are peaked, ready and waiting for my caress. I need to feel her skin, so letting go of her hair and pushing up her top, I do exactly that, and as I touch the soft, smooth skin of her globes and then push her bra down, I gently twist their hard tips and her breathing speeds up.
“I need to see you.” I hardly recognise my voice as my own.
As I loosen my hold on her, she pulls back, giving herself just enough space to take her upper clothes off. Brushing her hands away, I remove her clothes myself, too impatient for a slow striptease. I throw her shirt away, and without pause reach around her back to take off her bra. As it falls, I struggle to breathe at the first sight of the perfection in front of me. Two round, perfectly sized globes, flawless lily-white skin covering breasts big enough that I can’t wait to get my throbbing cock between them, topped with rosy-brown nipples just waiting for my attention. I can’t hold off any longer to feast on them.
Forcing myself to pay no attention to the bruising left by that fucker who tried to rape her, and bowing my head, I use my mouth and my hands, feeling, plumping, kneading that tender flesh, taking those turgid peaks one at a time into my mouth, teasing them with my teeth. When I give a small nip, she gasps and throws back her head. I can’t get enough of them. All the time I’m suckling and fondling, blood is racing south, swelling my cock to a hardness I’ve never felt before.
Her eyes close, her mouth opens, and her breath comes in pants. While her breasts are enticing, I need to move this on before I disgrace myself in my pants like a teenager. Pulling myself away, I gently push her back onto the bed, swinging her legs up so she’s lying flat.
Now my hands go to the button on her jeans, quickly unfastening it and pulling down the zip. A waft of musky scent is released, and my nostrils flare.
Then her hand covers mine as if to stop me. Her eyes have opened, worry clear to see there, her features are taut. Staring into her face, I forcibly move her hand away.
“I don’t care.” I try to impress on her that the sight of her injuries won’t pour cold water on my ardour.
A little nod, but there are tears hovering close, waiting to fall at the first sign of rejection.
Moving down the bed, I gently ease off her jeans and have to suppress my reactions. If I let my memory of that fucking video come back to me, if I let my anger at her senseless mutilation overwhelm me, she’ll read my reactions all the wrong way. Removing the shoe from h
er good leg, I free her from her jeans entirely.
Glancing, I see her eyes have squeezed shut, a tear has escaped and is rolling down her face. Bending over I place a soft kiss on her stump, and then trace the red lines betraying the injuries on her other leg, wincing inwardly at the pain she must have gone through. I can see the muscles, though getting stronger, still look weak, and realise she’s still got a long journey until she has sufficient strength even in her one remaining complete lower limb for her to walk completely unaided.
She’s waiting for me to react, to say something—to gasp in disgust or to voice fake platitudes. So I do neither. Instead, I nest myself between her legs, pushing them open wider and indulging my eyes on her perfect pussy and neatly trimmed pubes. The club girls keep themselves bare, but suddenly I love the sight of her pale bush, only slightly darker than the hair on her head. Then when I’ve seen enough, I huff a warm breath over her already hard clit, and she arches off the bed. I grin and start to indulge.
She’s so wet and ready for me as I lap up her feminine essence, loving the sweet musky taste. I dip my tongue inside her pussy, keeping an arm across her waist to hold her still for me, the other hand playing with her clit. After toying with her, I bring my secret weapon into play, swiping my bearded chin between her folds, tickling and teasing that tight bundle of nerves.
Her hands are grasping the bedcovers tightly as her whole body tightens. She’s close, so I use my chin, rotating and pressing down hard while taking my free hand down and putting a finger against the tight hole of her ass. It’s enough to send her over. She screams and begins to thrash. I hold her down and am relentless, squeezing every last contraction out of her. When she comes down, I pick up the pace again, and a second orgasm follows soon after. It’s only when her body goes limp that I raise my head.
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