Ridin' Her Rough

by Jenika Snow

  Fuck, he was a sick bastard for the things he had thought about concerning Delilah. It was sick and twisted shit, the kind of stuff someone didn’t do to a good girl like her, and would have her screaming and running in the other direction. And Delilah was a good girl, no matter who her dad was or the life she was surrounded by. She was just so damn innocent, and not at all like the loose skanky club whores who hung around and spread their legs at the snap of a finger. What he thought about concerned hard spankings, hair pulling, and feeling her nails rake down his back as he fucked he so hard she was fucking raw from his cock but still begged for more. He palmed his cock through his jeans and cursed. He couldn’t remember the last time he beat off. If he wanted to come he just found some pussy, but after thinking about Delilah he didn’t even want to taint the image he had of her by finding some loose-as-shit cunt. He unzipped his jeans, pulled out his dick, and braced a hand on the little desk pushed up against the wall. Then Torque did something he hadn’t done in a long fucking time. He jerked himself off like some kind of virginal teenager to an image of a female he could never have.

  Chapter Two

  Being the daughter of a motorcycle club’s president wasn’t all flowers and tiaras. There was a lot of shit Delilah Stringer had seen growing up being a biker brat, and a lot of shit she wished she could erase from her memory. But on the tail end of the random sex that went on in the clubhouse, the coarse language, and the violence that surrounded the Phoenix MC on more days than she cared to admit, Delilah wouldn’t change any of it.

  She parked her Mustang in an empty spot in front of the clubhouse and cut the engine. There was a row of Harleys lined up off to the side, and the huge garage door was open. The garage wasn’t a business, just where the guys could work on their bikes and cars. Most of them had a lot of different trades under their belts, the majority being talented in the illegal variety, but they all knew how to fix shit. She stared at Ringo, who got his name because he was a dead ringer for the Beatles drummer. He was currently under the hood of Malice’s truck. Climbing out of her car she grabbed the file that held receipts from the “family business” that needed tallied up. The club did a lot of stuff that would land them in prison, and in fact had at some point in their lives.

  “Hey.” The sound of a tool clanging on the cement was followed by the noise of Ringo hitting his head on something under the car. Delilah shouldn’t have laughed, but when Ringo got out from under the truck with grease smeared across his face, she couldn’t help it. He was too old to be under any vehicle, but the old bastard liked to keep busy.

  “Hey, sweetheart.” Ringo greeted her. He was the oldest member in the club, and at seventy-three he looked good for his age.

  “My dad here? I didn’t see his truck or bike.”

  Ringo wiped his hands on a greasy rag that would serve little purpose in getting them clean. “Yeah, he’s in there. Just got back with Malice.” She didn’t miss how Ringo didn’t give her any more information. It was obviously club business, therefore no concern of hers, even if she was the prez’s daughter.

  “Okay, thanks.” She turned to head inside but Ringo’s voice stopped her.

  “Just a heads up—”

  She looked over her shoulder.

  “Pinkie is in there.”

  Delilah gritted her teeth and forced herself not to groan aloud. Pinkie and her damn slutty ass.

  Ringo held up his hands. “Don’t shoot the messenger, sweetie. I just wanted you to know so seeing her skinny ass wasn’t a shock. I know you two don’t get along, and I don’t want to know why.” No, it never was a shock, because Pinkie had to be the biggest Cherry of them all. She was now in her thirties, but looked rode hard and put away soaking wet. Yeah, her and Pinkie had a nasty little history, one that Delilah wouldn’t forget, because that bitch had gotten pleasure in rubbing the fact she had been with Torque in her face. Even all these years later she still made off-the-wall comments about Torque and his big dick, and how she missed him coming to Rush Falls and fucking her ass. That was a problem with these biker assholes. Pussy was pretty high on their list of priorities, especially ones they thought were good fucks. Yeah, just thinking about her pissed Delilah off, and ever since then she tended to steer clear of the Cherry or there would be an all-out brawl between them, and Delilah would rip those extensions right out of her bleach-blonde head.

  “That bitch needs to get a life and leave the club alone. I don’t know why they keep her dirty ass around.”

  Ringo snorted. “Girl, you know your pop ain’t gonna get rid of her unless she really fucks shit up. She’s the most popular Cherry in the club, and sucks dick like a damn—”

  Delilah cut off Ringo with a firm shake of her head. “No way. I don’t want to know any more so don’t go there. I already see more ass in this place than I ever needed to in my entire life, but hearing about her—” she shook her head again. “Don’t even, Ringo.” Most of the guys tried to censor what they said around her because they still saw her as a little girl, but hanging around the club meant there was no hiding anything. Also, Ringo wasn’t one to mince his words no matter who a person was. He held up his hands in surrender and turned to finish working on the truck.

  Delilah pulled open the door and the scents of beer and cigarette smoke filled the air. It was early in the morning and the lights were dim. The place was a freaking wreck, with beer and liquor bottles, half-naked females sprawled out across the furniture, and yup, there were even some members under those bodies. Dixon pushed a broom across the floor, making a pile of dirt with some condom wrappers and even used ones thrown in there. Delilah wrinkled her nose. She didn’t see Pinkie, and most likely she was in one of the back rooms with a member, sucking him off. Ugh, dirty slut.

  “Hey, girl.” Dixon propped herself up on the broom and smiled. She was an attractive older woman that Delilah was pretty sure was giving lap dances to Ringo. Yeah, that wasn’t a sight she wanted to visualize.

  “Hey. You’re here early.”

  Dixon rolled her eyes and looked around. There were even a few naked chicks grinding themselves on the members and even the furniture. “Yeah, came in to prep for a big dinner for the guys and their families, but looks like I’ll spend most of the morning cleaning up.” Dixon shrugged and went back to sweeping. “This is the life I guess.”

  Delilah shook her head and made her way across the room, stepped over bodies and garbage, and stepped into the office. She shut the door and tossed the file on the scarred desk. The office looked like she had stepped into the seventies with its yellow shag, faded and torn brown chair, and posters on the wall of Farrah Fawcett lookalikes hanging naked over Harleys. Just as she sat in the chair there was a knock on the door.

  “Yeah?” Delilah leaned back and looked over at the door.

  Dixon pushed it open and leaned against the frame. “You are going to eat dinner here tonight, right?”

  Delilah smiled. Dixon was more like a mother to the club, and had been around since before Delilah even came to be part of the Phoenix clan.

  “Of course. You know I’d rather hang out with you guys than spend a Saturday night alone at my place.”

  Dixon gave her a warm smile and the corners of her eyes and mouth wrinkled from the act. At fifty-one Dixon looked old for her age, but her warm personality and caring nature made her seem a lot younger. Delilah didn’t know how she had gotten involved with the club but assumed it had something to do with Ringo since no one but him touched her.

  “Good. Be back here around eight, sweetheart.” She shut the door behind her.

  Delilah rested her head on the back of the chair. The thing had to be as old as her and smelled like mold and dirt, but it was one of the most comfortable pieces of furniture in the place. She had thought about leaving Rush Falls, going to college in another city, maybe even Denver or Boulder, but at the end of the day she couldn’t do it. So, she had finished school here, gotten her dual business and accounting degree, and stayed in the only place she had
ever called home. Now she helped do the books for the club’s legitimate business selling hunting equipment to the huge hunting community in this town. The money was decent, but didn’t bring in nearly as much as their on-the-side jobs, whatever those may be. Delilah didn’t ask were the wads of cash came from because, honestly, she wouldn’t have gotten an answer anyways. What she did know was that it was probably blood money, coming from guns, drugs or both. She should have felt guilty and wrong for living this life, but this was the only kind of life that had ever opened their arms and accepted her. Not even her mom had wanted her, but then there were eight big, burly and meaner-than-hell bikers who treated her like she was their little girl when she was only that to one of them. She drummed her fingers on the desk and stared at the water-stained ceiling. There were a lot of fucked-up things in this world, and maybe she was in the thick of it, but hell, she wouldn’t change it for anything. Maybe one day she would spread her wings and leave the Phoenixes to start her life in a big city. Oh, who was she kidding? This was her life, and no one left Rush Falls or the MC.

  ****

  Torque pulled his bike to a stop in front of the metal gate that blocked off the rest of the world from that of the Phoenix MC. The video camera mounted to the top the wall flashed red, and he stared into it. Seconds later the gate slid open and he drove up the short incline. He backed his bike beside the row of Harleys parked along the side of the building and cut the engine. Dismounting and pulling his helmet off, he looked around. There were a few prospects off to the corner smoking, and a few of his brothers were in the garage looking over the inside of a truck. He whistled and three of them looked up. Torque grabbed his pack off the back of his bike and pressed it to his side. The weight was heavy, but then again that was where the guns were hidden.

  The three big ass bikers made their way toward him, and he instantly recognized them. Ringo and his old ass self was limping behind the other two. Ace, the VP, and Vain, Brack’s Sergeant in Arms, met him halfway. They slapped each other on the back in greeting.

  “Fuck, man, it’s been a while since I saw you here, Torque.” Ace, with his dark brown hair tied at the nape of his neck, baby blue eyes, and smile that had dropped a lot of fucking panties, was the wooer of this charter. Torque had seen the way he sweet-talked the bitches into going back with him. Hell, there were enough Cherry girls hanging around the club that he just needed to snap his fingers and they’d be on their knees sucking his dick. But nope, Ace was all about talking sweet to the females. For such a Pretty Boy, Ace didn’t fuck around when it came to getting the job done, backing up the club, and putting any asshole in his place. If Torque had ever been serious about joining a chapter this was the one he’d pick, hands down.

  “Yeah, been on the road for a while. But got a delivery for your prez.” Torque looked around. “Where is Brack anyway?”

  “He and Malice are inside. He’s been expecting you,” Vain said and chewed on the end of a toothpick. The sick bastard had his shades on and Torque couldn’t gauge the guy’s mood. The Sergeant of Arms was a nasty, mean-spirited bastard, but he got shit done, didn’t put up with anything, and made some of the shit Torque had done to guys look like a walk in candy-coated fields. Torque supposed that was why he was Brack’s right.

  He gave Ringo a hug and slapped the old man on the back. They all headed inside. The clubhouse used to be an old warehouse until the club bought it. It had been renovated to house all of the club and their families and keep any unwelcome assholes away. It was on private property with a gate around the entire perimeter, and far enough from the center of Rush Falls that the town didn’t fuck with them all that much, but then again they had the police department on their payroll. Shit like that was necessary for them if they didn’t want random raids or the cops up their ass when things got ugly. As soon as they walked inside the scents of chili, cornbread, smoke and alcohol slammed into him. The clubhouse was popping with activity, with half-naked bitches all around, grinding their shit on brothers, sucking cocks, or fucking against the wall. “Damn, man, looks like you got the night set up.” Torque grunted out and grinned. It was more of a show than genuine.

  “Yeah, Dixon ain’t too happy.” Ace leaned back in his said after he spoke. “She planned this family dinner for the guys and their families, but a bunch of the brothers brought some random chicks home, already half wasted, and that plan kind of got fucked up.

  Torque looked over at Ace and cocked a brow.

  “Come on, Brack’s been asking for you.” Vain led them through the fuckfest going on, and every brother he passed stopped what they were doing to greet him. Once they were in the meeting room Vain shut the door and the three of them moved toward the table where Brack and Malice were currently going over some blueprints.

  “Damn, man, it’s good to see you.” He and Brack gave each other a hug. Brack was a big motherfucker, nearly as tall as Torque’s own six-foot-three-inch frame, and just as muscular. A lot of the guys in the club were big, whether from working out or over eating, but what they all had in common was they backed each other up, no matter what. Brack grinned broadly, and the scar on his right cheek stretched across his tanned skin. He hadn’t shaved in a few days, but neither had Torque, and in fact was thinking of just letting it grow out like half the guys here. “Your ride was good?”

  “Yeah, man. Long, but you know I like it that way.”

  Brack slapped him on the back and nodded. “Yeah, I know.”

  Torque set the pack on the table, untied the leather, and unrolled it. The .38 handguns gleamed under the lights, and each member grabbed one. They were checked, cocked, and set back on the wool. “The River City chapter said you might have some fun with these.”

  Ace and Malice chuckled. Vain was still checking out one of the guns, disassembling it and putting it back together. He was thorough for sure.

  “Thanks for hauling it, man. You came on the right night. You see all the hot looking pussy out there?” Malice said.

  “I did, but heard Dixon ain’t too happy about that.” Brack said on a grunt.

  “Thought she was going to tan my hide when she saw all the cunt out there, but I had no idea she planned on having a family dinner tonight. That shit would have been useful information ahead of time,” Ace said and Torque shook his head and laughed. “She’ll get over it, though, especially when Ringo here licks her pussy.

  “Shit man, she tastes like fuckin’ salt water taffy,” Ringo said and there was a collective groan from everyone.

  “Ringo, man, quit with the candy reference when you’re talking about Dixon’s pussy.” Ace grinned. “I don’t care about you screwing her, but shit, man, I see that woman as a mother figure.”

  “It aint’ my problem the pussy you go after is that young shit that ain’t even matured yet.” Ringo sat his old ass down at the end of the table. “I’m telling you, boys, you go after some of that fine, aged cunt and you won’t ever go back.” Everyone cleared their throat when Ringo started making references about Dixon’s snatch.

  “You’re insane.”

  Malice was grinning over at Ringo when he said this. This brotherly banter was what Torque missed not being stationed in one place, but that was it.

  “Pussy is like fine wine. It only gets better with age,” Ringo said and grinned wide.

  “This is coming from someone who hasn’t had any pussy since Dixon came to the club, and that was like seven years ago. Shit, old man, maybe you should hit up pussy that is young and tight,” Ace said. He reached into the inside of his cut and grabbed joint, put it between his lips, and lit the end.

  Brack nudged Torque in the shoulder and he leaned in close to say, “You think any more about joining us, brother? We could always use another Phoenix who knows how things run in the club.”

  Torque looked over at the men still giving Ringo a hard time. “You know I’m not any good with roots, Brack.” Torque ran a hand over his jaw after he made that statement.

  Brack reached over and slapped him
on the back and said, “Yeah, I know. Just know that if you ever change your mind the brothers would love having you come in.”

  Torque nodded, knowing that was true to the nth degree, but he still had an endgame in sight, and that was solitude and isolation when the time came.

  Chapter Three

  Dixon had told Delilah to be at the clubhouse at eight, but it was already nearing ten and she was just now pulling up to the gate. Of course there had been an issue with the invoices she had been tallying up. She punched in the code and while she waited for the gate to open she reached in her purse for cell. Shit, the damn thing was off. Once she had it turned on she saw Dixon had tried calling her a few times and had even sent her a text saying the dinner was canceled.

  She drove her car up the driveway and pulled it next to the blacked-out van the club sometimes used for runs. Before she even got out of the car she could hear the sound of Led Zeppelin’s “Stairway to Heaven” blaring. A few prospects stumbled out of the garage and their loud laughter could be heard over the music. She scanned the bikes, saw the usual number, but then the very last one in line had her heart beat increasing and her mouth going dry. God, she’d known Torque was going to be passing through, but she hadn’t known when. It had been a long damn time since she had seen him—four years to be exact—and seeing his bike right outside the club was like being right back at that night when she was eighteen. Delilah looked at the clubhouse again and realized there wouldn’t be any quiet family dinner, but instead an all-out kegger. “Shit.” She climbed out of the car and held her covered dish of taco dip. What she should do was get back in her car and drive home. Going in there and seeing a Cherry, most likely Pinkie, all over him once again, would only piss Delilah off, and this time she wouldn’t walk away, but finally beat that bitch and her fake blonde ass. Throwing a few punches was a long time coming anyway. “Goddammit.” She turned to get back in her car, because she knew what was going on in there, and that was not something she wanted to see, but a deep voice stopped her.