Ropes

by Jack Davenport

  Ropes head snapped to D.W.

  “I told you I’m a big fan, Ropes,” she said with a wink and a smile.

  “Holy shit, I had no idea,” he stammered. “What are the fucking odds?”

  “I always say there are only two dozen people in all of Portland, so be nice because you’re gonna run into every one of them eventually.”

  “I’m happy to meet both of you. I’m still kind of in shock about all of this to be honest with you.”

  “When I read your books, I knew I had to meet you, so when you didn’t reply to my email I had a guy in the club do some digging on you. That’s when we found out who you are and who you ride with. I knew from your writing that you had to be an actual club member, or at least be tight with one.”

  “What did you mean when you said I was the reason you’d accepted Olivia and Ali’s invitation?”

  “It’s not like it took much convincing,” D.W. smiled. “They’ve been inviting me for years, but my schedule’s been a little crazy, so it just hasn’t worked out. We’ve still kept in touch and we trade books all the time, that’s how I got turned on to the Clay Morningwood books. I don’t have as much time for reading as I’d like and am always excited when a book really grabs me.”

  “Thank you, so much. I can’t tell you how much that means to me, coming from you.” Ropes laughed. “I just still can’t believe that D.W. Foxblood was stalking me.”

  “Please, call me Darien,” she replied with a curtsy.

  “Ropes,” he replied. “But, apparently you knew that.”

  “You have a guy in your club that runs background checks?” I asked.

  “Booker comes in handy,” Mack said. “I’m not sure he’s as good as Kitty…” he said raising an eyebrow, referring to the ex-Dog, hacker, and current Burning Saints’ houseguest.

  “Word travels fast,” Ropes replied.

  “Only two dozen people,” Darien reiterated with a smile.

  The security line moved on and we eventually made our way on board the massive vessel. Once we were checked in, we made plans to meet up with Darien and Mack later for drinks and said goodbye for now.

  Ropes was wired as we headed to our room. I could tell he was trying to keep himself in check, but I honestly expected him to start waving his hands in front of his face and fangirling in front of Darien. She and Mack were really cool, so I was looking forward to getting to know them over the next few days.

  We found our room and Ropes unlocked the door and pushed it open, standing back so I could precede him inside. I walked into a surprisingly large room, complete with queen-sized bed, small sofa, desk and chair, and a balcony. We’d found one of our bags sitting in the hallway, so he lugged that in as well.

  “This is so nice,” I said, as he followed me in. I stood at the slider and stared outside. The sun was glistening off the water and I wished I could swim.

  “Yeah, it looks great,” he agreed, hauling the suitcase onto the bed.

  I grinned and faced him, dropping my backpack on top of the suitcase. “If you wouldn’t mind moving that stuff, I’d like a quickie before we have to do that muster drill thingy.”

  I didn’t have to ask twice as he dumped everything on the floor before lifting me and dropping me gently onto the bed. I laughed as he lifted my shirt and kissed my belly. “I like this side of you, honey,” I said, as he kissed his way up my body.

  He knelt between my legs and pushed my skirt up. “And I like this side of you. Easy access.” He tugged on my panties. “Lift.”

  I lifted my hips and he pulled them down my legs, maneuvering them over my boot, then dropping them on the floor before burying his face in my pussy.

  I wrapped my good leg over his shoulder and arched up, weaving my hands in his hair. As he sucked my clit, he slid one finger, then two inside of me, pumping harder and harder until I exploded around him. He didn’t give me much time to relish in my orgasm, standing to remove his clothes, then hovering over me again.

  Kissing me, he slid into me and I gripped his ass, begging him to go deeper. He slipped his hand under my T-shirt and tugged a bra cup down, fingering my nipple into a tight bead as he rocked into me.

  “Ropes,” I hissed.

  “What, baby?” he asked, burying himself deeper.

  “That.”

  He grinned, rocking again, before slamming into me over and over again. I cried out his name, dragging my nails down his back as an orgasm washed over me and he continued to move until I felt his cock pulse inside of me. I kissed him again, smiling against his lips. “You are so very, very good at that.”

  He chuckled. “Glad you appreciate my efforts.”

  He slid out of me and walked behind the closet, returning with a warm washcloth, placing it between my legs. “Feel good?”

  “It feels amazing,” I said. “Thank you.”

  He headed back into the bathroom while I stayed on the bed for a few minutes, my foot suddenly throbbing. “Honey.”

  “Yeah?” he called back.

  “Can you please find me a painkiller?”

  He walked into view in all his naked glory with a frown and started rummaging in my backpack. “How bad’s the pain?”

  “A bit like an icepick being shoved into the bone, but otherwise, not so bad.”

  He found my prescription and popped open the bottle, pouring one into his palm. He helped me sit up and handed me the pill, then grabbed some water so I could take it. “We might have overdone it, huh?” he asked, sitting beside me.

  “Bite your tongue,” I admonished. “I love everything we did just then. I wouldn’t change a thing.”

  He grinned. “You’re one tough bitch, baby.”

  “Hey, I’m not a bitch,” I joked. “Well, unless I’m your biker bitch, of course.”

  “You’re my perfect biker bitch,” he assured me, kissing me gently. “Come on, you sit here while I unpack.” He lifted me onto the little sofa, then hauled the bag on the bed again.

  * * *

  Ropes

  The white noise of Devlin’s hairdryer and the low, steady hum of the ship’s engines were acting as a powerful sleep agent. The fact that we’d already fucked, had a hot shower, then fucked again before we’d even left port didn’t help either. I was blissfully drained and losing the battle to keep my eyelids open as I lie on our stateroom bed.

  “Good afternoon ladies and gentlemen, this is your captain speaking, welcoming you aboard the Calliope,” a smooth, heavily accented voice came across the ship’s P.A. system, and Devlin killed the hair dryer. “As you may have noticed, the ship’s engines have started, which means we will be departing shortly. At this time, I would like to inform you of a mandatory muster station drill that will be taking place in just ten minutes. Please check the plaque located on the rear of your cabin door for your assigned muster station.”

  The captain finished his muster instructions, and the mere thought of schlepping through the ship with a lifejacket on only made me feel even more tired.

  “You’re gonna have to go on without me,” I groaned. “You can… muster for the both of us.”

  “I don’t think that’s how this works,” Devlin replied as she returned to her hair.

  “I can barely move.”

  “You were moving just fine a few minutes ago buddy.”

  “That’s the problem. You broke me, now I can’t move, and it’s all your fault.”

  “You’re gonna have to do a lot more than move. We have the registration cocktail party at four o’clock, and Clay’s gonna need to have his game face on.”

  “Son of a motherless goat,” I exclaimed, sitting up quickly.

  Devlin shot back, startled. “What?”

  “I’m gonna have to talk to readers.”

  Devlin smiled. “Yeah, that’s kind of the point of this whole thing isn’t it?”

  “I guess I was so nervous about meeting the other authors, especially D.W., that I must have put the readers out of my mind. Now that I’ve met her and the adren
aline is wearing off, I’m realizing I, or rather Clay, has to talk to readers.”

  “What’s the problem? You’re a well-spoken, friendly guy.”

  “Ropes is, sure. But what about Clay?”

  “What do you mean?” Devlin truly looked puzzled.

  I started grabbing for random items of clothing from my suitcase, barely paying any mind to what I was doing.

  “I spent the first part of my life as Spencer and I guess I never really liked who that guy was entirely. Then I became Ropes, but that felt more like my identity as a biker, a club member.”

  “And Clay?”

  “Writing as Clay Morningwood was never supposed to be anything serious. I started writing novels as a challenge to myself. I wanted to know if I had the ability to write about club life and make it appealing to the masses. Once I really started digging in, I discovered the MC romance genre, and the community of independent authors within it, and before I knew it, Clay was off and running.”

  Devlin stopped my frantic unpacking and stroked my cheek. “This means a lot to you now, doesn’t it?”

  “It does, and that’s why I’m afraid of screwing it up.”

  “How would you do that exactly?”

  “What if I don’t know how to be Clay?” I asked.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I know how to write as Clay, but I’ve never had to be Clay in person. I’m not sure I really know who he is in public.”

  “Isn’t he just you?”

  “I guess, in a way, sure. But he’s also another person entirely. Sort of like a superhero suit that I’m called to step into when needed.”

  “I would think, as an extrovert, you’d have no problem talking to strangers.”

  “That’s the thing. Since I’m outgoing and talkative, people always assume I’m an extrovert.”

  “You’re not?”

  “I don’t think so. By classic definition, an extrovert is someone who gets charged up when around other people, whereas I prefer to be alone most of the time.”

  “I wouldn’t have guessed that.”

  “That’s because I’ve barely been alone since our first date.”

  “That wasn’t a date.” Devlin smiled, and I kissed her.

  “Whatever it was, I haven’t wanted to be away from you since, which makes it a little hard to write if I’m being honest.”

  “I thought I was your muse.”

  “You are, and you inspire new ideas every day, but at some point, I’m gonna need to lock myself away for a little while and finish this book.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry, have I been a distraction?” Devlin asked as she pulled her shirt up over her perfect tits.

  “I’d like to say that’s not very helpful, but suddenly I am feeling a lot better.”

  Devlin leaned in for a kiss this time. “You’re going to be great. Just be yourself, whoever that is, and I know everyone will love you.”

  “As long as you like me, I’ll be just fine.”

  “Are you kidding? I’m Clay Morningwood’s number one fan.”

  “I think you might be the sole member of my fan club.”

  “Not according to Darien and all your other author friends.”

  “First of all, they are not my friends. I’d be lucky to call them professional acquaintances. Secondly, I think they’re being polite to a new author.”

  “I may not be an expert on the topic of romance writing, but I’m pretty good at identifying bullshitters, and Darien loved your writing.”

  “Maybe so, but I still feel like a complete imposter here. Besides D.W., Olivia, and Ali, there are a ton of other big authors that have been in the game for a long time. Who the hell even knows I exist? I probably have no reason to be scared to talk to the readers, since my table will be empty tomorrow anyway.”

  “Wow!” Devlin exclaimed. “Are you getting dizzy from all that spiraling?”

  “See, this is the shit I’m talking about. The side of me that no one ever sees.”

  “It’s totally refreshing, to be honest with you.”

  “What?”

  “And highly entertaining.” Devlin smiled wide.

  “I’m so glad my existential melt down is a source of your amusement.”

  “Can you blame me? It’s a little hard being around Mr. Perfect all the time?”

  “Mr. Perfect? Are you shitting me?” I spat out in utter shock.

  “You’re always so put together and quick with your words. You seem to float through a room with a confidence I’ve never seen before. I get the sense that you already know what’s going to happen in advance. Like, not only can you read the room, but that you’re already thinking three steps ahead of everyone else.”

  It was hard to reconcile Devlin’s perception of me with what I was feeling, but I knew she was being honest. “This is why you’re my muse. You see things within me that I don’t. You pull the best parts out of me and drag them into the light.”

  “If you say I make you want to be a better man, I swear I’ll jump overboard before we even leave port.”

  As if on cue, the muster drill alarm sounded off, and we joined our fellow passengers on deck, at our assigned station.

  Devlin

  WE STOOD BY one of the ship’s many outdoor bars for the duration of the muster drill, which mostly consisted of the captain reading from a script about staying calm should we hit an iceberg or whatever. To be honest, I wasn’t paying very close attention. What I was focused on, was the gaggle of women that were staring at Ropes as if he were a piece of meat on a hook. Of course, he seemed totally oblivious which made me wonder if I was just being jealous.

  Wait a minute. Was I jealous? I’m not certain I’d know for sure because, to my knowledge, it’s never been an emotion I’d had to wrestle with. Perhaps I’d just never cared enough about a person to get jealous.

  “Anything you’d like to share with the rest of the class?” Ropes asked with a smile.

  “Sorry, just lost in thought I guess.”

  “You’re not thinking of hopping onto one of those lifeboats and leaving me here without you, are you?”

  “Nope, just hope I don’t have to cut a bitch while out at sea.”

  “Thinking of taking up piracy as a profession?”

  “No, more like bodyguard to the stars. I think Clay Morningwood might have more fans than you think.”

  Ropes scanned the area and I noticed eyes turning away from him as he did. His presence was known, and I was pretty sure I wasn’t crazy.

  “I think you’ll be much busier as a full-time tattoo artist,” he murmured.

  The captain announced the end of the drill, and Ropes and I made our way back to the room to stow our life vests before the scheduled meet and greet cocktail party.

  “Speaking of which, your club doesn’t appear to wear much ink,” I said as we walked.

  “Apart from my brother and a couple other guys that’s mostly true.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “Mostly because our guys don’t tend to spend much time in prison. Cutter was a smart president and worked hard to keep us a step ahead of the cops. Apart from some stints in county and few state bids, most of our members nationwide have relatively clean records.”

  “That’s surprising.”

  “Cutter was a great president and a great man.”

  “It sounds like you miss him.”

  “Every day.”

  I freshened up and we made our way to the Skylight Lounge, where the event’s registration table was set up.

  The moment we walked into the lounge we were greeted by two beautiful women standing underneath a giant Books and Booze Cruise banner. One woman was tall with purple hair, and the other was a brunette and held a clipboard in one hand and a walkie talkie in the other.

  “Clay!” the brunette squealed in delight as soon as she spotted him, and the two ran toward us.”

  “I’m going to have to get used to calling you Clay,” I whispered just before being showered in h
ugs by our hosts.

  “We’re so glad you could make it,” the brunette welcomed us warmly.

  “Thank you so much for inviting me. I’m still not sure what I’m doing here, but I’m excited,” Ropes said, sounding uncharacteristically nervous, before introducing me. “I’m sorry, this is Devlin, my...”

  “Clay’s personal security detail,” I said, playfully poking Ropes in the ribs.

  “I’m Ali and this is Olivia,” the brunette said, motioning to the other woman, who had, until then, been silent.

  “A word of warning,” Ali leaned in to whisper. “Olivia said if anyone hands you a glass of something blue, don’t drink it,” she warned, stabilizing herself on the registration table.

  “Not good, huh?” I asked.

  “No, reeeeeeeally good,” she said, grinning from ear to ear. “It’s called a Captain Blue Breeze, and she’s had six so far,” Ali said in a mock den mother voice.

  “That you know of,” Olivia sassed back.

  Clearly the booze part of the cruise was under way and these women were not fooling around.

  “Sounds like we’ve got some catching up to do, baby,” Ropes said.

  Every time he called me baby, goosebumps ran up the back of my neck. No one had ever called me baby before, and I’m pretty sure if they had, I’d have squashed that shit immediately. Normally, I hated gushy sentimentality and things like pet names, but for some reason, when it came from Ropes’s lips, it felt genuine and truly romantic.

  “I’ll race you to the bar, sailor,” I joked.

  “Here are your registration packets and name badges,” Ali said. “The bar is open and on us tonight, so don’t use your drink cards. The cocktail party is all about meeting your fellow authors and drinking until you’ve forgotten you’ve met them.”

  We grabbed our bags, made our way through the crowd, found a spot at an empty table in the corner, and Ropes ordered us a couple of Bahama Mamas.

  “This is delicious,” I said, taking a sip of the fruity concoction. “Plus, rum makes me frisky,” I said, with a wink.

  Just then, a handsome young man wearing a shiny silver coat, a priest’s collar, and a camouflage fanny pack hopped onto the lounge’s stage with a microphone.