Revenge - Reckless Renegades 1

by Gadziala, Jessica

  His body curled forward, bending me back, his other arm bracing around my upper back, holding my weight.

  His lips pulled from mine, his lips trailing down my neck, between my breasts, sealing over one of my nipples, sucking it so hard my hips jerked violently against him, making his cock press where I needed him most, dragging a ragged moan from me, something that sounded loud even over the pounding music.

  Suddenly, we were moving, Thayer anchoring me to his body as he gained his feet, moving forward a couple steps, laying me back onto the stage. Hands sliding down my thighs, calves, he snagged my ankles, pushing them upward, toes to ceiling as his hands slid down the backs of my thighs, snagging my panties, gently working them down my thighs, over my knees, then pressing my legs into my chest, working them off completely.

  I couldn't even draw a steadying breath before his face was between my legs, before his tongue was sliding up my cleft, circling over my clit, driving me up hard and fast until my hands were fisted in his hair, my hips were grinding upward into him.

  He pulled away at the last possible second, standing up straight, ripping off his shirts, working his pants free, keeping his eyes on me as he wrapped a hand around his cock, stroking it a few times, eyes getting smaller, then quickly slipping on a condom.

  Taking a deep breath that made his already strong chest widen before he grabbed my knees, and slammed inside me.

  Whatever control he'd shown before disappeared when he found himself inside me.

  Each thrust might have sent my body sliding further onto the stage were it not for his hands holding my knees as he fucked me.

  Each moment seemed to make him get harder, faster, making my muscles grip him tight as he got me closer and closer to the edge.

  One of his hands slipped between my thighs, working my clit in fast, punishing circles until the pressure was simply too much to take.

  I crashed into my orgasm, crying out his name, hands desperately trying to grab him as the waves kept coursing through me, overtaking me completely.

  He fucked me through mine before he found his own, cursing out my name.

  "Fuck, babe. If I knew you wanted to dance for me, I'd have brought you here sooner."

  "Well, you clearly weren't going to make a move. Someone had to grow the balls to do it," I teased, watching as he pushed up to look down at me, smile lazy.

  "Feeling pretty smug right now, are you?" he asked, brow raising.

  "Yep."

  "Well... you earned it," he decided, pushing back, running a hand down my side, pausing at the scar there. "For the record, I was always planning to make a move. I just wasn't sure you were up for it."

  "Well, I beat you to it," I told him, folding upward, taking a deep breath. "Hand me my panties," I demanded as he pulled up his pants, leaving them open, hanging low.

  "Kinda liking this bossy shit, not gonna lie," he told me, fetching the panties and then my dress, walking away to let me slip back into them as he, presumably, dealt with the condom. "Alright, you ready to head out?" he asked, calm, casual.

  And I maybe felt a stab of disappointment.

  It was silly.

  I hadn't been expecting more than casual sex, had I?

  It wasn't like me.

  I had always understood the way things went with guys. Some guys were only good for something with no strings attached. Thayer - an outlaw biker fresh out of prison - was one of those guys.

  "Yep," I agreed, even if my heart was sinking a bit in my chest.

  Sinking.

  Jesus.

  When did I become so sappy?

  Besides, Thayer didn't actually have a place in my heart.

  That wasn't possible.

  Was it?

  Maybe it was.

  I couldn't deny that things had clearly been changing with me. Maybe it was due to the lack of stress, the relaxation, the time to think of things other than what was happening to Joey, how to get her out, work, bills, the usual everyday obsessions that ate up so much of my time, my head space. I had time to think about things.

  Things like my future, my desires.

  I had been too busy raising Joey, worrying about her future.

  But I had sorted some things out all that time I had been sitting around on my ass in the clubhouse.

  Like the fact that I was maybe done with casual, that I would like something serious, something significant.

  Had I actually been fantasizing about all that with Thayer?

  I guess I had.

  Though, clearly, Thayer was just in it for a casual fuck.

  With that realization, I pushed down the expected sadness, followed him out of the building, avoided eye-contact with Roux, climbed on the back of the bike. This time, though, I possibly didn't hold on nearly as tightly, didn't scoot in.

  Back at the clubhouse, I rushed off, resisting the urge to run into the building, closed myself in the bathroom, showered the makeup and the day away, wishing my uncharacteristic feelings could swirl down the drain as well.

  They were still with me as I dressed in the comfiest sweats I had, grabbed some chips, and headed to bed to eat them and wallow while watching something trashy on TV.

  I had just finished the chips - and the B-movie - and was reaching to turn off the light, force myself to sleep, when the door opened.

  And Thayer walked in.

  Wearing nothing but low-slung dark gray sweats, which was really hindering my decision not to want to sleep with him again.

  He made a beeline for the bed, dropping down on the other side, letting out a sigh. "Babe, turn off the light. I'm fucking beat."

  Say what?

  "Um... why are you here?"

  "It's my bed, babe."

  "Yeah, but... you've been letting me use it. Do you want me to move to the room you've been staying in?" I had, admittedly, overstayed my welcome in his room now that I was well again.

  "I want you to turn off the light. Then get your pretty ass over here. And go to sleep."

  I turned off the light.

  But I didn't exactly know what else he wanted from me.

  "Babe, what part of getting over here was too cryptic for you?"

  "All of it," I admitted, turning my head to look down at him, my eyes struggling to adjust to the lack of light.

  "Alright. Let me make it clearer for you. Slide down on the bed, roll over in this direction," he started, waiting for me to follow instructions. Only then did he continue. "Now put that head here," he added, tapping his chest. It was foreign to me - snuggling - but the idea of it sent little shivers through my stomach. And if I was going to have my first real snuggle, I figured Thayer was the one to have it with. So I scooted closer, resting my head on his chest, attempting to hold up a bit of my weight at first, then slowly settling in. "Now put your leg here," he went on, snagging it, dragging it up over his hip to rest my knee on the other side of his body. "There. Was that so hard?" he asked.

  Hard?

  No.

  Incredible?

  Absolutely.

  I could get way, way too used to it, actually.

  "Why are you so tense?" he asked a moment later, voice a little heavy, tired.

  "What is going on here, Thayer?" I heard myself ask, wincing even as the words were coming out of my mouth.

  "With us?" he asked.

  "I guess, yeah."

  "Fuck if I know," he admitted. "But it seems like it might be heading somewhere. So, let's just... let it, yeah?"

  A sonnet, it was not.

  But it might have been the sweetest thing I had ever heard before.

  "Yeah," I agreed, not even trying to pretend I wasn't grinning so big it hurt my cheeks.

  There was a problem with our plan, though.

  Only, the two of us didn't know that yet.

  ELEVEN

  Sera

  As Thayer put it, we just let it go where it was going.

  Where it was going was, well, a lot of what we had already been doing. Plus a lot more sex. And ni
ghttime snuggling.

  He moved back into his room with me, insisting I start hanging up my 'shit' and putting it in the drawers instead of living out of my suitcases. I did this; happily, I might add. Even if it was new to me. And a bit unsettling. Because I liked it more than I should have.

  Liking things too much, wanting things too much left you open to the disappointment of losing them.

  As the old saying went, when you let a man sweep you off your feet, you were in the perfect position for him to drop you on your ass.

  Somehow, though, I couldn't seem to make myself care.

  I was just happy.

  It was such a foreign sensation that it took me an almost embarrassingly long time to actually recognize it for what it was.

  I wouldn't say I had been unhappy all my life. Just status quo, just rolling with the punches. And there were a lot of punches in my life.

  But there was no denying the floating sensation inside me, the way my heart did a little fluttering whenever Thayer would slap my ass, press a kiss to my neck, whisper something dirty in my ear as he passed.

  Other than that, though, things stayed mostly the same.

  Thayer worked on little projects around the clubhouse, then every night, two of them - and often me, when I was bored - would head to Peaches.

  Eventually, I did manage to convince him to let me go back to work, but only during the day hours because that meant he could go with me.

  Chip was, well, a wee bit intimidated by the giant, hovering man in the biker cut rolling around on his chair, criticizing his work, reminding him that this was a place of business, and all that trash talk about women was Fucking inappropriate.

  In short, I loved having him around.

  On the second week I was back, after most of my regular clients had already been in to get pieces started, colored in, finished, I had a free afternoon.

  And Thayer came up to me with a notebook, pulling off his shirt, and sitting down on the chair, hugging it.

  "What are you doing?"

  "Having you work on me."

  "I shouldn't tattoo you."

  "Why not? You're the best one here." He said that loudly, wanting all the guys I worked with to hear that.

  "I don't know. Isn't it a conflict of interest or something?"

  "Haven't you ever done any work on someone you know before?"

  "Joey doesn't have any tattoos. And, well, she's the only person I really know."

  "Well, now you know me."

  "Alright," I agreed, turning to lay out the ink on a tray, knowing what colors I would be going with since all of Thayer's pieces were black, gray, and blue. "So what am I doing?"

  "Page ten of that book," he demanded, making me turn back, flipping over the book, realizing as I did so that it was one of mine. One of the ones that were always scattered around the clubhouse.

  Page ten ended up being a casual sketch I had made while watching the comings and goings of the club. It was a skull with crossed guns and even a little flower on top. It made me think of Bea. A little splash of femininity in a very masculine place.

  "You want the peony?" I asked, brows drawing low.

  "I'm comfortable in my masculinity, babe. Besides, it's Bea's favorite flower," he told me, shrugging. "Come on, babe. Stick it to me," he demanded. Only when I scooted my chair closer did he add in a small voice, "And maybe later, I'll stick it to you?"

  "Only maybe?" I asked, but then the buzz of my equipment made any quiet conversation impossible.

  I always liked most aspects of my job. It allowed me to use some creativity, to practice my skills.

  But this was by far the most enjoyable tattooing experience I had ever had.

  In the end, I was pretty sure it was the best work I had ever done as well.

  "Bike. Now," Thayer demanded after glancing over his shoulder at it.

  "Hey! He has to pay for that!" Chip hollered as we rounded on the door.

  Thayer barely broke his stride, reaching for his wallet, grabbing a handful of cash - way more than he owed - and tossing it in the air behind him as he let me out the door.

  Then, well, we barely made it back into his room before he had me against a wall.

  The weeks following that were the same. Except, suddenly one morning, some of the canvas prints from my apartment were hanging on the wall in the common room.

  "Cal," I said, finding him the only one hanging around. "Where did these come from?"

  "Your closet," he supplied.

  "Yeah, but how did they get here?"

  "Thayer brought them."

  "When?"

  "This morning when he went to clean out your place."

  "Wait... he what?" I asked, feeling my whole body jerk.

  "He cleaned out your place. Shit," he said, looking up, finding the stricken look on my face. "Did you not know?"

  No, no I did not.

  It wasn't like Thayer and I didn't communicate, either. I mean, sure, we spent a lot of time rolling around in bed, but we also talked. About our days, about our plans, about what he saw in the future for the club, about thinking about having a party to meet some new men who might want to try to prospect. When I had no idea what prospecting was, we went ahead and talked about that as well.

  But he damn sure never said a word about cleaning out my apartment.

  My and Joey's apartment.

  I mean, she was getting out a rehab in a few weeks. I needed a place to bring her home to. Sure, I had toyed with the idea of asking her to come back to the club, since I was still living there, but I was worried it would be full of too many bad memories, even if Thayer and the guys had done a lot of work to make it look completely different than it had when she was here last.

  True, I hadn't said anything about that to Thayer yet.

  I knew what he would say.

  That it wasn't safe.

  That a predator was still out there.

  I wasn't going to say that Doug wasn't a concern for me. Of course he was. But it had been months. If he was lurking around, someone would have spotted him by now. He likely knew exactly what had happened to the rest of the men, and ran off with his tail between his legs. He was probably in some other town, preying on some other poor woman.

  He would also likely have something to say about wanting me in his bed.

  I wanted to be there too.

  And it was killing me to know that my loyalties would have to be split.

  Thayer and Joey.

  It was an impossible choice.

  So I wanted to be able to balance the two. I could bring Joey home to our old apartment, then have Thayer come over when he wanted to see me.

  Was it ideal? No.

  But it could work.

  Until Joey was ready to go off on her own.

  "Where is he?" I demanded, feeling my body stiffen.

  "I don't think I want to tell you," he said, lips twitching.

  "But you are going to anyway."

  "He's in the back room."

  The back room was mostly storage. Though Thayer had been in there the last few days reorganizing things.

  "Thank you," I told him, turning on my heel, storming down the hallway, pushing open the last door.

  And freezing.

  Thayer hadn't just been reorganizing the random boxes that were all around.

  No, he had moved all them out. Likely to the basement.

  Then he had moved all of Joey's things in.

  Her bed, her books.

  In fact, the attention to detail was impressive. Everything looked exactly how it had looked when I had last seen it back in our apartment. Save for the wall color. Which we hadn't been allowed to have in our old place. But here? He had chosen a light, soothing sage green. Which happened to be Joey's favorite color.

  "Came in here to bitch me out, huh?" Thayer asked, shooting me a smirk.

  "Ah, yeah, I did."

  "But now you can't. Because I did a nice thing."

  "Actually, I still can," I corrected him.<
br />
  "How's that?"

  "You can't just... do that kind of shit, Thayer."

  "Clearly, I can. Seeing as I did."

  "You know that's not what I meant. You can't go behind my back and do things that impact me without talking about it with me first."

  "Babe, I thought this was all settled. You can't go back to your apartment until we handle Doug. You know we haven't made much progress on tracking him down."

  "We can't put all our lives on hold forever because of a slim possibility of someone maybe coming after us."

  "I think you and I have had a miscommunication, babe."

  "Clearly," I agreed, waving a hand around.

  "No, babe. That's not what I meant."

  There was an odd, unexpected sadness in his voice at that, something that made me stiffen a bit. "Then about what?"

  "About what is going on here. Between us."

  "No, I don't think we have a misunderstanding there."

  "But we do. See, the way I was seeing it, this was something serious."

  "I don't have a lot of experience with serious, but, yeah, that is what I was thinking too."

  "Then why the fuck would we go backward at this point?"

  "It's not backward. And it isn't about us."

  "It's about Joey," he guessed.

  "Of course it is about Joey." For me, it was always about Joey. "She's getting out soon. And I don't think it is the best thing for her to come back here."

  "I get that, babe, I do," he agreed, dropping down on the foot of her bed. "I understand shit went down here. And I think we can all guess how bad it was. But the man who did it to her is still out there, pissed at me, at us. I can't claim to know what is going on in that twisted fucking head of his, but I doubt he is someone who is comfortable with his woman being snatched away from him."

  "She's not his woman."

  "No, of course not. But we're not talking about someone rational here."

  "He's made no move, Thayer."

  "No, but neither did I. Until it was time to. You can't guarantee he's not out there, plotting. And I can't guarantee your safety outside of these walls. I know this isn't ideal for Joey. Which is why I have been breaking my back trying to turn this place around, changing the paint, rearranging shit, making sure it looks different. I know it is the same place, but I was hoping that changing it all around will make it easier for her to settle down and feel safe here."