by Avelyn Paige
A mischievous look forms on his face, as his hands shift from his legs to mine. They slip below the maxi skirt I had picked out to wear on the plane, and cup the edge of my panties. He tugs them off my hips, and painstakingly inches them down my legs, until they reach my feet. Ratchet tosses them onto the dashboard, before returning his fingers underneath. His finger swipes against the outside of me, and a shiver shoots up my spine from the contact.
“Do you like it when I do this, Siren?” he asks, before slipping a finger inside of me. “Does this make your pussy wet?”
“Yes,” I sigh, and spread my legs wider for him.
“So responsive,” he comments, plunging a second finger inside of my wet entrance. His fingers crane, and a jolt of electricity spreads across my body. His other hand reaches up the length of my body, pulling up my shirt, and exposing my thin bra. My nipples are peddled against the coldness of the cab. He leans forward, and pushes one of the cups of my bra away, exposing my breast completely. He dips, and takes it in his mouth. His tongue swirls around the sensitive numb, and my body goes into electrical overload. His fingers begin to thrust in and out of me with every lick. He releases my nipple, and then devours my lips. I moan against his lips, and he smiles at my pleasure.
“Please,” I beg him. “I need you inside of me.”
He breaks the kiss, and that mischievous smile returns.
“I have an idea,” he tells me, leaning back against the driver side door. “Just go with it.”
Ratchet swivels in his seat, and pops open the truck door. I watch as he steps outside with his cock popping out of the top of his jeans. I fix my shirt trying to cover myself. He reaches in and pulls me out along with him, and leads me to the truck tailgate.
“Oh god,” I exclaim.
“Trust me, Siren.”
And I do. Ratchet lowers the tailgate, and turns his ass to it, hopping up on the gate like a seat. He scoots back, until he’s midway to the front of the bed and motions for me to follow.
Gathering the length of my skirt in my hands, I hoist my leg up and barely make it in. I crawl up to his side, and his mouth returns to mine. His tongue caresses mine like two partners dancing. Our kisses are a mixture of lips, and tongue in perfect union.
“Ride me, Siren,” he murmurs against my lips. I pull away, and stare down at him, trying to decipher if I really heard him right.
“Out here?” I nervously question.
“Yes, out here. Let go and feel freedom, Siren.”
I try to convince myself this is crazy, but I want this as badly as he does. I hike up my skirt again, and his hands slide his jeans down to his hips, and expose his cock. His hardness is ready, and my pussy is screaming at me to find my release.
Shifting my weight, I slide a leg over his hips, and settle myself above him. His cock rubs against me as I find my center, and we both groan. Releasing my skirt, I use my hand to guide his tip to my entrance and lower myself down onto him, impaling him inside of me. My walls relax as I lower myself farther onto his length, and fully sheath him.
His hands fall to my hips, and I begin to rock my hips across his pelvis. My back begins to arch and my head falls back in quick succession as his motions combine with my own.
“You are so fucking beautiful like this, Siren. So exposed, and so mine,” He hisses, as I increase my speed.
“Ride me harder, wife,” he demands. “I want to feel your pussy come all over my dick.”
Arching my back more, I deepen his reach and the edge of my release begins to blossom. Each repetition sends my arousal branching out in my body until it hits the wall, and my orgasm hits me hard. My body feels as if I stuck my finger in an electric socket with sparks tingling up and down my flesh. As I ride out my pleasure, Ratchet’s balls clench as he finds his own release. I fall forward against his chest, and we both heave trying to catch our breaths. His arms come around my middle, pulling me into another deep kiss. The lights of a flashing security vehicle begin to illuminate off the parking garage walls, and we both laugh. I slide off of him, and we both bolt out of the bed of the truck and back into the cab. Ratchet smiles as he turns on the ignition, and we peel out of our not so secret hiding spot.
Taking a peek at my phone again, I see that it’s actually time for me to head into the terminal. My high from our time together fades quickly back into dread. It’s been over six months since I left California, and here I am going back empty-handed, without Ratchet. The strangeness of it all rattles me.
As he pulls back on to the road towards the departure drop-off lanes, I try to calm my nerves. Ratchet reaches over, and places his hand on my thigh.
“It’s going to be fine, Siren. Stop overthinking this.”
“I know it will be,” I reassure him and lie to myself.
Ratchet pulls up to the curb, hops out, and circles around to open the door for me. I take his extended hand, and slide from my seat. With so much of my stuff still back in California, I didn’t need to pack more than a few items that easily fit in my purse, along with the iPod shuffle that Ratchet had picked up for me for the flight.
He pulls me into an embrace, and my arms wrap around his neck. I didn’t want to let him go, but the terminal officer blew his whistle at us and told Ratchet he couldn’t park there at the terminal.
“Time for me to go,” I fretfully admit.
“I love you, Siren. Call me when you land,” he says, planting one last kiss on my lips.
“I love you.”
We reluctantly release each other, and I hitch my bag over my shoulder, heading into the terminal. As I make it through security, I have to force myself to shake off the feeling that I am making a mistake by leaving them both behind. My father could strike at any moment, and I am leaving them both exposed without telling Ratchet of his threats.
You have to do this, Ricca. It’s not the right time to tell him. Get the paperwork signed, and then unleash the hell fire down on him. Be patient.
The pep talk to my subconscious barely helps, but the call for my flight to board dishes up the distraction I need from my wavering thoughts. Settling into my seat, I keep my eyes trained on the window. The expansive Kentucky bluegrass fields fly by in an instant as the plane takes off, and within a few hours are replaced with the brown, dusty remains of former manicured lawns that make up most of Southern California. My hope to sleep on the plane was thwarted by the screaming baby, directly behind. Even hard rock turned up to eleven, wouldn’t have drowned out the noise.
After I disembark from the plane, I make my way to the outer terminal to call a cab, but as I step outside of the automatic doors, I see an unexpected sight. Dani and Darcy stand with an outstretched banner welcoming me home. Their excitement to see me eases my nerves about how much my time away would affect my relationships with the people back at the club. Maybe this won’t be as awkward as I thought it would be. The taxi traffic is heavy in the terminal. It finally clears, and I make my way over to them. Dani squeals and quickly draws me into a hug. Her arms around me are a welcoming embrace, instead of a panic-inducing motion.
She squeezes me tighter when she notices that I don’t resist her embrace. Darcy just smiles from the sidelines, but I pull her into the group hug.
“I’m so happy you’re back,” Dani declares. “You’ve missed so much.” My eyes fall to her rounded belly, and my mouth falls open in shock.
“I know, right? He’s insatiable.”
I look over to Darcy, and she shakes her.
“That is so not an option for me anymore. Five kids between us are enough for me.”
We all laugh, and Dani points towards the SUV waiting at the curb. Following around behind them, I take my first real breath of California air, but it doesn’t feel as much like home as I thought. But the biggest piece of my home isn’t here. Only a few hours apart, and I already miss him. Remembering his request, I slip my phone from my pocket, and shoot him a quick text to let him know I made it.
He responds right away, and I stow my phone again as I slide into the car. A driving beat of Justin Bieber powers out of the car stereo, and I cover my ears pretending to be tortured, until they switch the station. Not that he’s a terrible artist, but I can only take so much of a man singing like a damn girl.
Darcy steers the car off the curb, and onto the freeway. The familiar rush of the cars soothes my homesickness a little. Darcy and Dani chatter along as we drive, but I notice that suddenly we’re not taking the right exit for the clubhouse.
“Uh, I know it’s been a few months since I lived here, but did the clubhouse move or something?”
Dani peers over the passenger seat and just smiles.
“It didn’t, but we have a surprise for you. Ratchet wanted us to get you settled in, but we’re impatient,” Darcy declares, as she turns off the main drag into the newer part of Upland.
“And I need to pee again,” Dani adds.
Home after home zips by, before Darcy pulls off on a quiet side street and parks the SUV on the curb.
“And where are we exactly?” I ask, peering out of the window at a modest home nestled on a corner lot. The house’s stonewalls are beautiful, and accented with large bay windows in the front. The yard is pretty tiny, but that’s the norm for this part of town.
“Welcome home, Ricca,” Dani squeals as she opens the passenger side door. I follow her outside, and just stare from the sidewalk up at the house.
“Whose home? I don’t live here.”
“Uh yes, you do. This is Ratchet’s house.”
Ricca’s absence hits me harder than I could have ever expected. After years of living on my own, this woman tumbled into my life and reset the delicate balance of everything. Not that I minded, but to miss someone like this was not something that I anticipated. I barely slept the first few days, but the repair work that I had put onto my plate to make this place livable again was ahead of schedule. I couldn’t classify myself as a professional handyman, but installing new cabinets, updating the bathroom, and even laying new carpet was simple enough.
With the intent to move back to California, once this was all said and done, I wanted to make this place good enough to sell. With our marriage, she didn’t need to worry about a cash flow, but I don’t want her to feel completely dependent on me. She needed a nest egg of her own, and if she wanted to work, I wouldn’t stop her. It just wouldn’t be back at Red’s. He had expressed an interest in my wife far before she shared my last name, and I’ll be damned if I allow her to go back to that kind of work place. Willie’s was bad enough, but at least her boss and I had an understanding. While I hadn’t given him all the information regarding her past, I let him in enough to know that she walked a thin line of both sobriety and panic. His agreement to move her to the day shift was a welcomed one, as was his promise to keep an eye out on her. His only stipulation was that he got the first shot at Johnny Monroe or any man that crossed a line. I agreed, but I can’t say that is something that I would be able to honor. She is my everything, and I’d die to protect her.
Setting down my tools for the night, I settle onto the couch with a few slices of pizza on a plate, while I wait for her nightly call. I won’t lie and say that she gave me hell for hiding the fact that I had a house already set-up, and even accused me of doing this alongside of our surprise marriage. But the truth was that I had owned the place for years prior. I just hadn’t told anyone about it, until I needed it. It had been my private project and a way to decompress, after years of working for the club. A couple of beers, a hammer, and some nails were the closest thing to therapy that I had found to soothe my mind, until Ricca.
I employed Dani and Darcy’s help to get the furnishings and home shit in order to make the place ready, but with Ricca there, I insisted that she make the place her own. It was going to be our home for our family. Our private space to just be us, without the weight of world trying to kick in the door and screw it all up.
As I take a bite of pizza, my phone rings. My mouth still full, I grab it and try to answer it.
Her intoxicating giggle fills the phone, as I choke on the food in my mouth trying to answer her.
“You’re supposed to chew first,” she chastises me. “Bite, chew, then swallow.”
“I’m aware, wife,” I tease back. “Hearing your voice was far more important though.”
She giggles again, and I picture her beautiful face smiling back at me, across the miles that separate us. Only a few more days, and she’ll finally be home to me.
“I’d much prefer you’d still be alive when I get home, husband,” she responds back.
Tucking the phone between my ear and shoulder, I sit up from the couch and grab the plate, tossing it in the trashcan. She remains silent, and the fear that the house inspection today didn’t go as planned, sinks in. Silence and my wife aren’t a combination that has boded well for me in the past.
“Everything go okay, Siren?” I hesitantly question.
“Hmm,” she responds. “Oh yeah, it was fine. The inspector checked everything out, and was out of here in less than an hour. She said she would be conducting the reference interviews later this week, and that we should have her final report by the following week.”
“That sounds promising.”
“It does,” she concurs, before the silence returns. “Can I ask you something without you getting mad?”
“Depends. Do you think I will get mad?”
“You might. I did something that I probably shouldn’t have done without asking first.”
My mind runs with what she could have possibly done to suggest such a reaction of out me. There’s only a few skeletons left in my closet that she hasn’t been privileged to, and most of them were club business. Not something she would have just found on her own. Our bylaws are clear on that fact. While Raze did stretch the rules around to allow Darcy to be involved somewhat with our dealings with the cartel that killed Jagger, he didn’t want the women involved. It was too dangerous for them, and any kind of danger to our families affected the group as a whole. We couldn’t protect them and ourselves at the same time. It was better that way.
“Go on,” I instruct.
“I found a photo today in a box from your room at the clubhouse. I was trying to see if there was anything there that I could maybe put up in the house, and it slipped out from a book.”
In an instant, I know which photo she is referring too. While I had given her a glossy overview of my past, there were pieces that I hadn’t told her about. She may have faced her demons and her mother alone, but I didn’t.
“I can’t believe I am even asking this, but who is the girl in the picture? Is she someone you were close with?”
I sigh, before answering her. This wasn’t how I envisioned this call going. My expectations of discussing the inspection, her time out there, or hell even how she has decorated parts of the house were shot out of the water. Instead, I was about to divulge to her a piece of my past that only one other person had known about, and that was Jagger. His act of salvation came with a stipulation and a price. The loss of her.
“You could stay that,” I begin. “The girl in the picture with me is my sister, Genevieve. I called her Ginny for short.”
“Oh,” she murmurs. “You’ve never mentioned her before.”
“There’s a reason for that, but I need to start at the beginning, Siren. If I am going to tell you about her, I need to go back to where it all begin.”
“I’m listening.”
“Our mom died giving birth to Ginny when I was a few years old. My dad decided to cope with his loss by drinking himself to death.”
“Oh, Ratchet,” my wife declares. “I’m so sorry.”
“That’s just the beginning, Ricca,” I mention. “Ginny and I bounced around from foster home to foster home, until our caseworker placed us with the Wilson family. I was about fifteen at the time, and Ginny was thirteen. For the first year, everything was great, until o
ur foster mom died in a car accident. After that, everything went to shit. Like my real dad, my foster father also started drinking, and before I knew it, he started looking at my sister completely different.”
“He didn’t,” Ricca gasps, realizing where the story was about to turn. I know I need to tread lightly on this part of the story because Ricca herself had lived in this kind of hell. Bringing back those nightmares was not something I intended to do.
“He didn’t get the chance. He tried to break his way into her room one night, but he only found me. I could tell by how much he was throwing back that he was fixing to do something bad. So, I sent Ginny to my room and told her to pack our backpacks and slip down into the kitchen to get food, before hiding outside near the old shed. I waited for hours and then I heard his heavy footsteps coming up the stairs. As he jiggled the locked door handle, I readied myself. The moment that he broke the plane of the door, I smacked him with one of the bats, which his wife had gotten me for my first Christmas under their roof. He yelled and tried to fight his way to get me, but I hit him harder a second time. He fell to the ground, and I just ran.”
“Oh my god.” Is the only thing that slips from Ricca’s lips, before I finish.
“Ginny was scared that he’d come after us, but I had already taken care of that. On my way out the door, I grabbed the gas can that he kept by the backdoor, and doused the entire kitchen with it. I lit the place on fire, grabbed Ginny, and never looked back.”
“That’s how you ended up on the streets, isn’t it? That’s how Jagger found you.”
“That’s right. He brought us both back here, and put us to work. Ginny worked in the kitchen, and I worked in their mechanic shop, until I was old enough to prospect. Things were good for a while, but club life really started to affect Ginny, as she grew older. The guys looked at her just like my foster father did, and I knew I had to get her out of there, when one of the guys made a play for her. The club decided her being underage was too much of a liability, and sent her away to live with one of the former old ladies, whose husband had just passed.”
