by K. S. Ellis
'Still doesn't look anything like a chapel,' she quips and I smirk.
'It's just called that because we have Church in here,' I tell her, moving to lean against the table beside her, crossing my arms over my chest, glancing sideways at her.
'Round a table?' she drops a hand to run over the smooth surface of the table that I just fucked her on. Yeah, Church is never going to be the fucking same again. I'm going to be in here listening to Dad go on about club business, but all I'm going to be able to see is me fucking Lena on the table.
'Church is what we call a meeting about club business. Only the officers come to them.'
'Oh,' she nods and then smiles. 'So it's a board meeting.' Not a question, but I treat it like one anyway.
'I suppose. We're not exactly corporate goons,' I wave my hand over my outfit; oil stained jeans, dark tee shirt, leather boots, my cut.
'Mark Zuckerberg wears jeans and a tee shirt to work,' she smirks at me and I narrow my eyes. I can't tell if she's trying to get me riled up, or just teasing me. It's not a scenario I've ever had to deal with. No other woman I've ever met has had the lady balls to tease me.
'You don't know much about motorcycle clubs, do you?' I smirk at her, and she looks over at me and laughs. Her laugh is beautiful. There's no other way to describe it. Her whole face laughs with her; eyes scrunched up, even, white teeth showing, fucking dimples on her cheeks.
'Yeah, I've been meaning to Google the rules and stuff,' she finally says.
'I can tell you what you need to know,' I tell her, dropping my hands to the table on either side of my thighs, gripping the edge loosely. 'Rule number one, don't come in here without my permission,' her smile falters slightly, so I relent, a tiny bit. 'Unless I'm alone.' I wink at her and she relaxes.
'Got it, Church is for penises only.' She nods seriously, but it has me thinking of exactly what I've just done to her with my penis in Church. Yeah, I can get on board with that phrasing.
'You do whatever the Prez tells you, no questions asked, and you do whatever I tell you to, as well,' I continue, and she whips her phone out. 'What are you doing?' My eyebrows are halfway to my hairline. She better not take a fucking photograph of this room.
'Writing these down,' she murmurs, her eyes glued to her phone, and I tilt my head so that I can see the screen. Yeah, she's got the notes app open and she's fucking typing Rules for Wild Hawks MC - No. 1 Church is for Penises Only. Unless Aric says we can sexy times there. Holy shit. I think I like her spin on the rules. No. 2 Do whatever the Prez tells me, no questions asked. Also do whatever Aric tells me, especially during sexy times. She has typed in No. 3 and she's looking at me intently, waiting for the next rule.
'Don't get cute with me,' I growl at her, but she can see the smirk on my lips, because she immediately starts typing No getting smart with Aric, unless it's sexy time. She dresses for fucking tea, and calls fucking "sexy time". She is way too fucking innocent for me and for this club. Too bad I can't seem to get her out of my system. I'm a selfish motherfucker, so she's not going anywhere.
'Come on.' I sigh, standing up, moving to lift her off the table. She gasps slightly as I do so, and I find myself brushing a light kiss over her lips. 'Let's get out of here before we both get in trouble.' As I walk behind her, herding her out of the room, I can see over her shoulder to where she is typing in her phone. No. 4 Aric can get in trouble for sexy times, so be sneaky about it. It takes everything I have not to fucking laugh.
Chapter 12
LENA
So, I was totally right. My new pillow does absolutely nothing to help ease my neck pains. I think I'm going to need to call my salon and book in a weekly standing appointment for a neck and back massage. At this rate, I'm going to have a mountain of credit card debt before Aric is through with me and I can finally go back to my job. Before… this, I was a fairly decent office temp, and I worked all around this part of the state for various corporate entities that needed temps when their receptionists went on vacation or had a baby. It wasn't something that I was passionate about, but I was darn good at it, damn it! It also paid my bills. Of course, I can't exactly hold that kind of job when I'm supposed to be at an outlaw motorcycle club VP's beck and call.
I wonder how I’m going to note this time period on my resume. I hardly think I can put “Motorcycle club sex slave” in my employment history. Maybe “personal leave of absence”? Either way, I’m going to have to put something, because otherwise it’s going to be extremely difficult to get another job. Plus, I want a halfway decent job that will pay my rent, because I don’t think I’m going to want to go back and live with my momma in Pinedale. That’s too close to the club. Not that I think they would bother me or anything. Once Aric’s done with me and I’m allowed to leave, I imagine they’ll go back to not knowing about my existence. But I’ll know about them. I’ll know about him.
I don’t think I would be able to live around Pinedale and San Remo and risk running into him. Or seeing him out around town and risk him having a new woman on his arm. I mean, I don’t go anywhere with him, per se, but then again, I’m not his girlfriend. I’m just his sex slave who sleeps on his sofa. Maybe once he’s through with me I will actually move to LA. That way Momma could come visit me there sometime. If she ever thought she might want to. On second thoughts, she probably wouldn’t ever come and visit me. She’d visit Cory though. Hell, she’d visit Cory if he moved to the East Coast. Shoving aside my bitter thoughts, I head out of the clubhouse, beelining for the auto garage.
Fangs smirks down at my knee length royal blue dress, decorated with sprigs of lavender, nipped in at the waist with a tan belt. I love this dress because it has two cut outs at the rounded neck, to show off my collarbones. Also, because it has short, capped sleeves, so it's lovely and cool in the California heat. I'm wearing the same block heeled brown boots as my salon trip last week. Mainly because they match my belt, but also because when I'm going about by myself, I like shoes that look cute, but I can also run in. Hey, a girl can never be too safe. He doesn't say anything as he hands me the keys to the same Chevy truck, and Strafe isn't around, so I just nod at him and peel out of there. I can hear the faint noise of a motorcycle and roll my eyes as I head into downtown San Remo. Now that I'm living with bikers, I can hear the damn things in my sleep.
The massage is, of course, heavenly. Afterwards I feel like I can move my neck in all directions again. I really need to do something about that sofa. Sixteen days and I'm ready to go and buy a darn new sofa myself. Somehow I don't think that Aric would approve though. I sigh as I eye a lovely looking fabric three seater with extremely comfortable looking cushions in the window of the homewares store. As gorgeous as the pale blue sofa looks, it would be totally out of place in an MC clubhouse. Also, from the looks of it, it would probably max out my credit card at the same time as getting me into too much trouble to be worth it. As I turn away from the store with regret, my eyes land on the store next door; a lingerie store. More specifically they land on the mannequin in the window who is wearing a sexy, lacy, see through black teddy. Maybe there's another way I can get off that awful sofa, I smirk as I walk into the colorful store.
I decide to hit the diner near the lingerie store before heading back, and as I order a burger and fries, Cory walks in. I can't believe my eyes, and they narrow on him as he slips into the booth across from me.
'You're looking well, Lena,' he smirks, and I glare at him.
'What are you doing here, Cory?' I snarl, leaning back into the booth and crossing my arms in front of my chest, putting a barrier between us. I hate that darn smirk of his when he looks at me like that. Like he knows my deepest, darkest secret - which of course, he does; and that he's going to exploit that knowledge - which, of course, he has.
'Just checking up on you,' his eyes flicker over my outfit. 'Still wearing your work clothes, I see,' he laughs. 'Enjoying your new job?' I suppress a shudder at his tone. Way to make what I'm doing with Aric sleazy. He's such a creep. I ignore him,
smiling at the waitress when she delivers my meal, and then she flirts with Cory as she takes his coffee order. Ew.
'I actually came to you with a proposition, sis,' he grins conspiratorially at me. I flick my eyes up at him, and I can see that his grin doesn’t quite reach his eyes, which look a bit tight, but then I glance away dismissively, eyes on my plate. The fries look good, but the burger is too overstuffed, and way too greasy, so I pick it apart with a knife and fork.
'It's a way to ensure you can cut short your time with the Wild Hawks,' he persists, 'and then you can go home to Mom.' He sounds a bit desperate that I hear this offer out, so he's probably in trouble with someone else and needs me in someone else's bed. Hell, to the fuck, to the no. I stand, dropping some cash to pay for my uneaten, mediocre burger, snatch up my pocketbook and my shopping bag and slide out of the booth. I make it all the way out onto the sidewalk before he catches up with me. He grabs at my arm and jerks me to a stop, and then he winces as he turns me to face him. Oh, right I grin. Aric shot him in the foot. Yeah, just over two weeks is enough that he can walk without crutches, but not without pain. Good. Maybe I should suck Aric's cock again for that? A smirk crosses my face as I think of my first afternoon with him, and Cory misinterprets it, grinning at me like I'm going to go along with whatever stupid plan he has now.
'Good, let's get a drink and I can tell you want you need to do,' he starts when he's interrupted.
'I don't think so. Hands off,' a growl sounds behind me and Cory's eyes widen with fear. A glance over my shoulder tells me that Conrad is right behind us. Ah, I guess the faint motorcycle noise I thought I was imagining suddenly makes sense. He squares up and I can see the butt of a handgun under his leather jacket. Cory must see it too, because he pales and his hand reluctantly drops away from my arm. I jerk it away from him, glare at him one last time, and then march away from them both, back to the Chevy to make my way back to the clubhouse. Suddenly my little weekly excursions feel tainted. Stupid Cory.
Aric is waiting for me when I pull back into the clubhouse compound, standing beside his motorcycle, a frown on his face, his arms crossed in front of his chest. Crap. Conrad must have called him. He waits until I'm almost level with him before he speaks.
'Get on,' he growls, jerking his head in the direction of his motorcycle. O-kay, I guess we're going for a little ride. Conrad is just pulling up and getting off his motorcycle near us, so I turn to him and shove my pocketbook and shopping bag into his chest.
'Put these on my sofa,' I tell him, my tone dripping with accusation. Conrad just smirks at me and takes my things, heading into the clubhouse with them slung over his shoulder like they're a suit jacket and he's a darn runway model. Asshole. Stupid smirking bikers. Stupid, smirking men. Aric is already straddling his motorcycle, so I sigh and climb on behind him. I’m hoping that we aren't heading back into town, because my dress is way too short for this type of transport, and I don't want to flash my lacy panties to all of San Remo.
We don't head back into town. Instead, Aric turns the motorcycle west and we drive out of San Remo and along a road until we come to a forest area. I think it's a nature reserve or something. Heading in, Aric eventually leaves the main road and drives along a narrow trail until we get to a secluded opening. He shuts off the motorcycle and silence descends upon the clearing we are standing in. I think I can hear the gurgle of a stream or something, somewhere in the distance.
As I get off the motorcycle, I look around. Sunlight is filtering through the tall redwoods, down onto the grass and ferns that blanket the ground here. It's peaceful and completely stunning. I turn back to Aric in surprise, ready to ask about this place, but I notice that he's standing propped up against the tree trunk that he parked his motorcycle next to, his eyes guarded, his arms crossed across his chest. Oh, and he also looks pissed as hell.
Chapter 13
ARIC
When Conrad called to say that Lena had met with Cory fucking Channing at the diner in town, I fucking saw red. I really thought we had a fucking good thing going on here. She hangs around the clubhouse, chatting and laughing with my Mom, she has her own space in my room, we fuck every fucking day, and it is always good for her, I fucking make sure of it. I've never heard a woman scream in ecstasy more than she does. And when she asks to go into town, we give her a fucking truck and let her go. Then she fucking pulls this shit? I get a tight feeling in my chest; fucking betrayal, that's what this is. Is she fucking playing us?
Of course she's fucking playing us. Why else would she agree to be a fucking sex slave for an MC she knows nothing about. She could have ended up in anyone's fucking bed. Hell, she could have ended up being some piece of ass passed around the entire fucking club. The thought of that pisses me off even more, and I growl as I push away images trying to invade my mind of my fucking brothers with their hands on her. I'd have to kill the fucking lot of them. Finally, the silver Chevy we loaned her pulls up in the parking lot and she climbs out, holding that giant brown handbag of hers, and a pale pink shopping bag. I can tell the moment that she sees me, because her steps falter slightly and she changes her direction to head towards me. I jerk my head at my rig. I don't fucking want an audience for this shit.
'Get on,' I growl and she sighs. Conrad has pulled up, and is fucking grinning at us, the motherfucking cunt. She frowns at him too, and shoves her bags at him, telling him to put them on her sofa. He takes them and walks off, fucking whistling, with her bags slung over his shoulder. Asshole. I throw my leg over my rig and start it, not bothering to watch and see if she climbs on behind me. She fucking better, if she knows what's good for her. A moment later I can feel the heat of her body pressed against my back, and her slender, freckled hands come about my waist, gripping my abs. My traitorous cock hardens at her touch. Guess everything I fucking enjoy is betraying me today.
I take us through the valley to the west of San Remo, and into the nature reserve on the other side. Cutting off the path, I head to the small clearing that I stumbled on when I was a teenager. It's pretty here, and a good place to think. It's also fucking quiet, with no one to listen in on conversations I'd rather they didn't fucking hear. Lena gets off the motorcycle and daintily picks her way into the clearing a bit, tipping her head back and admiring the scenery. I get off my rig, but barely take two steps away from it, propping myself up against one of the tree trunks that ring the small clearing, crossing my arms in front of me, watching her. Finally, she turns to look at me, standing there in the middle of the clearing, wearing her dark blue dress with flowers all over it; she looks like she was conjured up by fairies or some shit.
'Why'd you meet with Channing?' I ask at last, when I realize that she isn't going to speak first. She has the fucking audacity to look surprised, like that wasn't what she was expecting me to say.
'I didn't.' She shrugs, and I frown, pushing off the tree and stalking towards her. She bites her lip, looking nervous, but she stands her ground.
'Rule five,' I spit, venom dripping from every syllable, 'don't you ever fucking lie to me.' Lena pales, making her smattering of freckles stand out even more against her fair skin. My hands curl into fists as I fight the urge to brush my fingers against her cheeks. Even when I'm fucking pissed at her, I can't seem to stop fucking wanting her. Like I'm under her motherfucking spell or some shit.
'I-I didn't,' she says again, stammering. 'I went to the salon, I have a weekly standing appointment there,' great, now she's fucking babbling. I sigh, crossing my arms again as I stand in front of her, listening to her word vomit. I learnt a long fucking time ago that you have to listen to everything someone says when they're cornered, because even though they speak a lot of fucking shit, they usually hide all the important bits in between the rest of the crap.
'I did some shopping afterwards, and then I wanted to get something to eat, so I went to the diner.' My eyes narrow. Conrad said that's where they met. He said that she sat down, spoke to a waitress, and not two fucking minutes later that preppy cunt sat down
across from her. Clearly a pre-arranged meeting. I should have fucking taken her phone off her when she first came to the clubhouse. I should have never fucking let her go on these little excursions into San Remo. She's not here on some fucking vacation.
'I didn't know that he was going to be there,' she insists, her green eyes swimming with tears, but I don't let my face show how much that fucking sight affects me. Didn't become VP of a fucking vicious one percenter MC before the age of thirty-one by showing fucking weakness.
'I didn't.' She's shaking her head now. 'I left; I didn't even get to eat my meal. Stupid Cory,' she mutters the last part under her breath, but I still hear her. I can't help it, a smirk is tugging at the corners of my mouth at that, but I swallow it down. No. Fucking. Mercy.
'Conrad said that when he met you two out on the street you were arranging to go for a drink so that Channing could tell you what it was that you need to do.' She flinches, whether at my ice-cold tone, my words, or a combination of both, but she fucking knows I've got her with that.
'No,' she shakes her head again, starting to look panicked that I'm not buying her bullshit protests. 'No. He followed me out and grabbed me, and then told me that's what we were doing. I was never going to go with him. The only reason we were out on the street is because I walked away from him inside.'
'He has a fucking barely healed bullet hole in his foot,' I sneer at her, 'and you want me to believe that he stopped you just by grabbing your fucking arm?'
