I began weaving my way back to the bar when another patron at one of my tables stopped me. “Could we get another pitcher of beer, doll?” It was a table of four bikers, their cuts turned inside out to hide their club patches. I’d noticed that a few clubs were doing that this year, as many establishments had banned the wearing of colors in order to avoid confrontations between battling clubs.
I smiled down into his friendly brown eyes and full-bearded face. “Sure, be right back.” I felt the eyes of all four bikers on me as I walked away.
“Guess you put that jerk in his place,” Della chuckled when I reached her at the bar. “Good girl!” She picked up the circular tray of drinks that Stevie had just set down and rushed off.
“Pitcher of beer, Stevie!” I called after her.
Lola, one of the younger waitresses we worked with, took Della’s place at the bar. “I swear if that prick pinches my ass one more time, I’m gonna snatch off his rug and throw it across the room!” She was royally pissed. “My boyfriend’s getting tired of me coming home with bruises.”
Boyfriend? That was news to me. She wasn’t shy about flirting with some of the guys, and even disappearing with them on occasion. I guess she only had a boyfriend when it came in handy. I couldn’t blame her for being pissed, though. We’d all had to put up with the occasional slap on the ass and a grope here and there, but it made for good tips. Unfortunately, some customers got overzealous when they’d had too much to drink, or used that as an excuse for their bad behavior. When we complained to Vinny about them he just brushed it off and said that it was par for the course, and to think about the tips that we got as a result.
So why work in a job where daily abuse was ‘par for the course’? We all had our own reasons. I was running, and picking up waitressing jobs was the best, and sometimes only, option when you hopped from town to town. Getting an education in order to do something better wouldn’t have been worth it for me, because I didn’t have time to spend searching for jobs and doing interviews. When I hit a new location I usually needed a job immediately. Sure, I had a little money saved up, but I pretended that it didn’t exist so that I wouldn’t rely on it. Besides, it belonged to someone else.
Why was I running? I was running from the Red Devils motorcycle club and their sadistic president, Wildman. They’d held me captive for a while after kidnapping me right off the street. Then I’d been forced to participate in a sick, twisted initiation ritual with one of their new members.
Rebel.
I tried not to think about him, but from the second he’d forced me to peer into his eyes I’d felt trapped, mesmerized by a ruthless outlaw who was too sexy for words. He’d been forced to take my virginity, and then had done all that he could to get me out of there.
I wondered where he was today, if he was even still alive. Much later I’d heard rumors that the Red Devils had been killed off, but I’d been too frightened to believe it. So I now lived my life always looking over my shoulder and waiting for the day that one of them showed up to take me back to them. I shuddered.
“You okay, honey?” Lola asked, seeing my shiver.
I forced a smile and nodded. “Want me to take your pincher?” I asked just as Stevie came over and dropped off the pitcher of beer I’d ordered.
Lola smiled tiredly and I knew what her answer was going to be before she said it. None of us liked giving up a table, because you never knew what kind of tip you’d get.
“No, thanks. We’ll be closing soon.”
I picked up the pitcher and headed back to the biker’s table, the ever-present smile pasted onto my face. “Here ya go.” I set the pitcher down in the center of the table. “We’ll be closing soon.”
“Yeah, this is our last pitcher, doll. We’ll be out of your hair in a minute,” said the man who seemed to be the spokesman for the table.
I had no doubts. I’d never seen a pitcher of beer disappear as fast as they did at their table. They’d had several of our large pitchers, the evidence of which was still on the table. They hadn’t wanted me to remove the pitchers when they were empty, I supposed because they were keeping track. I thought to myself that their legs must be hollow, because none of them seemed overly drunk.
As it grew closer to two o’clock, the place began to clear out. Thank, God! I was surprised to see Stevie begin turning off the neon signs in the windows, an obvious deterrent to keep people from coming in for that last drink. Most locals knew that when the lights were out, the place was closing up or was already closed. Stevie must be feeling the week’s punishing schedule, too, I thought. I’d noticed that she’d slipped off her usual stilettos and was wearing a pair of flats. I wished that we were allowed that small concession.
Most of the tables in my section were empty, so I began wiping them down and flipping the chairs on top so that the floor would be easier to sweep. I happened to glance up toward Della’s area to see that she was just as busy as I, as were Lola and Carrie. We were all so exhausted, although you never would have known it from the speed and enthusiasm we were exerting as we cleaned our sections. The clock was winding down, and the thought of kicking off our ridiculous heels and putting up our aching feet was a strong incentive to get done fast.
I made my way toward Della. At some point we all began working together, crossing over into each other’s zones in order to get done as quickly as possible. Eventually the remaining customers got the hint, paid up their tabs, and left.
“God, I think you’re right, I might be getting sick. I suddenly feel awful.”
I looked up from the table that I was cleaning, frowning. Della did look awful. There wasn’t an ounce of color in her face now. “I knew it!” I said with concern. “You look pale.”
She flopped down into a chair. “I feel nauseous.” There was surprise in her tone. Her arm came up and she placed a hand over her tummy. “It just suddenly came on.”
God, she was beginning to look green, as if she might throw up. “You better go home while you can still drive,” I said. “Before you get worse.”
She tried to smile. “Thanks.” Then she groaned. “Whatever it is, it’s hitting me fast.”
“Go!” I encouraged with concern. “I can finish up your section. No problem.”
She shook her head. “I’m not going to leave you stranded, I can hold out another half hour.” I hadn’t forgotten that she was the one with the car.
“I’m sure that I can bum a ride from one of the others,” I insisted. “Now please go home! I’ll check in on you when I get there.”
She glanced up at me with sweat beading on her brow. “Honey‒”
“Go!” I insisted, pulling her to her feet. “Don’t worry about me. Get home and into bed.” I walked her to the back door and outside to where her car was parked. “Besides,” I smiled down at her pale face, “I like you owing me.”
She made a pitiful attempt to laugh, but then gagged and slapped her hand across her mouth. Before we even reached her car she had to stop and retch. I jumped back as far as I could without letting go of her. I loved Della, she was my soul sister, but if I got vomit anywhere on me I would be joining her. While I supported her through the episode, I prayed that whatever she had wasn’t contagious.
When she was able to walk again we made it the rest of the way to her car and I opened the door. “Do you have any tissue or anything in there?” I asked, settling her behind the wheel.
She reached for something, a bottle of water, and took a swig. I knew what she was going to do without her saying a word, because I would have done the same thing. Once again, I stepped back so that she could spit the water onto the ground. She moaned weakly.
“Oh, God…”
“Will you make it home?” I thanked God that we only lived ten minutes from the bar. She nodded without looking at me. “Good. Call me when you get there so I’ll know that you made it okay. Drive careful and I’ll see you in a little bit.” I closed her door and waited until she had pulled out of the lot and onto the main road.
I spun around to go back inside and then came to a dead stop, my heart in my throat when I sensed that someone was there. It was dark back behind the bar, and the dumpster made it smelly. The few parking spots were reserved for the employees, but once in a while a customer would make his way to the back of the building, usually for a drug deal or to have sex with a hooker that he’d picked up.
A shadow gradually detached itself from the back corner of the building, tall and broad and frightening, because he was moving in my direction. I was too scared to say anything, frozen into place and holding my breath, my eyes glued to the shape of the man as he eventually stepped into the dim, yellow lighting provided by the bar. As his appearance became clearer, I took in the biker attire, the clunky boots, his cut. The top half of his face was still shadowed, keeping me from seeing his eyes, but I could make out that he had rugged features and long hair. I was struck with stark terror as his face slowly came into view.
I opened my mouth to scream, but all that came out was a pitiful, choked sound of desperation.
My past had finally caught up to me.
Rebel had found me.
Chapter 3
Rebel
Past
I grabbed Ginger by the hand and pulled her out of the room, down the hall and to the bathroom. Her resistance was futile, her fear unimportant. I knew what I had to do, and if she were smart she’d realize it, too. If she wanted to live. I opened the bathroom door and yanked her inside, thanking fuck that I found it empty. It was filthy, but better than nothing, and it had a shower that everyone used when they felt the need to be clean, which wasn’t often.
Ginger spun around when I shut the door, the look of a trapped animal in her pretty blues. I ignored her growing terror, steeling myself for what I had to do. Even behind closed doors I had to make it real, I had to be convincing that I was an unfeeling bastard. I saw her swallow, could see her tits rising and falling rapidly as the unknown overwhelmed her. She was expecting the worst, preparing herself to do whatever she had to do to survive.
“Take off your clothes.” I kept my tone harsh, indifferent to her growing panic.
She shook her head vigorously and stepped back, slamming hard against the cracked, porcelain sink. A nervous cry escaped her, and her eyes were wild as she took in her surroundings and realized that there was no escape. Her gaze touched on the door behind me before meeting my eyes.
“Please‒”
“Take off your fucking clothes,” I said in an uncaring, demanding tone. “You’re filthy, and not in a way that gets my dick hard. Now undress.” I removed my cut and the t-shirt beneath it. “In fact, I think I’ll join you.” Her eyes nearly popped out of her head at that. “If you’re not undressed by the time I’m out of my clothes you won’t like the consequences.” I kicked off my boots as my hands went to the front of my pants.
As I’d expected she would, Ginger’s small hands began to unbutton her blouse. Slowly she began to expose enticing, creamy skin to my wandering eyes. I undid my pants. She lowered her gaze to the floor and turned around before reluctantly removing the garment. I let her have her moment of modesty before looking into the mirror in front of her. Fuck. My dick took notice of her perfect tits and rosy nipples. Hard nipples. Surprising.
I lowered my zipper, the sound of it overloud in the tiny room. I could tell that she knew what I was doing by the stiffening of her backside, but she didn’t let it stop her from removing her jeans. As I kicked mine away, hers hit the floor. I hissed, taking in the mouthwatering curves of her shapely ass, an ass that I wanted to dig my fingers into while I was grinding my dick into her cunt. Fucking hell, I hadn’t expected the surge of lust that suddenly heated my blood at an alarming rate.
I heard the sound of harsh breathing in the room, and it took a moment before I realized that it was mine. “Turn around,” I demanded sharply.
I kept the smile to myself when I watched her bring her long hair forward, knowing that she was trying to use it to shield as much of her nudity from me as she could. She’d all but succeeded. When she turned her tits were hidden behind the thick layers of her hair, and her hands were shielding her pussy from me.
“Come here, Ginger.”
She padded toward me slowly. I was glad that she was acting sensibly. It would make my job a helluva lot easier, and besides, I didn’t want to hurt her. She halted within inches from me, her gaze still lowered to the floor. “Look at me.” I moved her hair back behind her shoulders, exposing those luscious tits to my curious eyes. Christ, they were full and rounded, more than a handful, and her rosy little nipples made me salivate and my dick harden.
Her worried, frightened eyes locked onto mine, and I steeled myself from softening toward her. “This is going to happen, Ginger. You and I both know that Wildman will kill us both if it doesn’t, and that’s after every one of his brothers fucks you raw.” I hesitated, giving her time to digest that information. “You want that to happen?” She shook her head, a lone tear making its way down her cheek. I wiped it away with my thumb. “No more resistance from you, and I’ll make it as easy on you as I can.”
Hell, I could have kicked myself for going there. I shouldn’t have been worried about making anything easy for her, but I couldn’t get over the fact that she was innocent, and that I was going to be her first. I’d never fucked a virgin, I’d always stayed away from them as if they had the plague. Virgins were complicated and time-consuming. I wanted a woman I could fuck, and fuck hard. Someone who could take the roughness and give it back.
She didn’t pull away when I took her by the hand and pulled her into the shower with me. It was as if she’d suddenly placed her safety and well-being into my hands, counting on the hope that I would protect her. Shit, protect her from everyone but me. I was hard as a rock by the time I closed the frosted glass door and turned on the water.
Once the water was adjusted I pulled her under the spray, soaking her hair before handing her the shampoo that was in the shower. As she slowly lathered up I let my eyes drift with lazy appreciation down the womanly curves that I’d soon be claiming—her magnificent tits, the hourglass shape of her waist and the flare of her hips, her perfect thighs. Not too skinny, not too thick. She was healthy and damned enticing. She may have been tiny compared to me, but she looked like she could take a good fucking.
She rinsed her hair free of the shampoo, leaving behind silky strands of yellow gold. I was fucking mesmerized as she washed the filth from her body, revealing how creamy and flawless she was. My dick throbbed wildly, and I knew that I had to get a grip before I seduced what I was supposed to just take. When she reached for her pussy I took the rag from her.
She stiffened, gasped, but there was nothing she could do to keep me from washing her. I ran the soapy cloth between her thighs, rubbing over and over her little fur-lined bush. I made sure to part her pussy lips and run the cloth against her labia and clit. She caught her breath when I did that and closed her eyes. Fuck, was this turning her on? I dropped the cloth and started to use my bare hand.
Jesus-fucking-Christ, there was an inferno between her thighs, so hot that it almost singed my hand. I watched her expression as I gently ran a finger over her slit before separating the plump mounds and exploring inside. A wild tremor shook her and her head fell back, mouth parted with her shallow breaths. I zeroed in on her clit, which had tightened up into a hard, little ball. Fuck, I hadn’t expected her to be so responsive. When I let my finger slip inside of her, she moaned and began to move her hips, and before long I was finger-fucking her toward an orgasm.
I wanted to watch her explode around me. I added another finger, going deep, thrusting in and out, in and out, and raking over her clit with my thumb at the same time. She reached out blindly, grasping my bicep as if she needed help to remain on her feet. Her luscious body was vibrating, her breathing was harsh and rapid like mine, and I knew that she was about to come. When it happened she lost complete control, crying out loudly, convulsing wildly against my
hand.
Fucking hell. I wanted to turn her around, push her up against the tile, and fuck her from behind. It’s what I would have done with anyone else. And then I thought, why the fuck not? There was nothing to say that I couldn’t get my rocks off, too. My dick was so hard it felt like it was going to explode, my balls were full and ready to release. Why torture myself? With a growl of rough need I found myself doing what I wanted. I spun Ginger around and pushed her up against the tile wall. She cried out, turning her head sideways. I stepped forward, taking my dick into my hands and sliding it between the crack of her ass.
She stiffened and sucked in her breath. I leaned forward and put my mouth against her ear. “Don’t worry, I’m not going to fuck you just yet. But I need to come before I lose control.” I didn’t add, before I lose control and bury my dick so far inside of you that it would be impossible to know where you end and I begin.
My dick was curved upward, making it easy to fuck between her fleshy cheeks. I glanced downward, watching the head peek out from between the crack as I thrust up and down. Jesus, it felt good! She had a nice round ass, her cheeks were squeezing my dick tightly, milking me to heaven. I was thrusting without mercy, fast and with one purpose in mind. I hadn’t meant for this to happen, but I wasn’t sorry that it was. As I felt my orgasm approaching, I reached around Ginger and took both tits into my hands, squeezing them and pinching her nipples until cum was flying out of my dick and covering her lower back.
I grunted out my release, not letting up my frenzy until she’d milked me dry and the aftershocks had set in. I was content to let them claim me, content to let my dick soften against her ass. I pulled my hands from her tits and turned her around, my eyes blazing down into hers. The innocence was still there, maybe even a little bit of fear, but there was something else, too. Was it acceptance that she couldn’t stop what was happening, or was it that she wanted this?
“Finish up,” I snapped gruffly, because I didn’t want her to think that I wasn’t the bastard that I was supposed to be. I stepped back under the water and quickly washed. Coming all over her pretty backside had released some of the fucking turmoil that had been twisting my gut, but it wasn’t enough to get rid of all of it. Now that I’d had a taste, I wanted all of her. I wanted to own her fucking innocence.
Ruthless Page 2
