by M. N. Forgy
Glancing around, I wonder where my bitch is. Jillian just left and hasn’t answered my fucking calls since. She’s probably pissed at me. Fucking Dolly is good at making that happen.
Tracing my bottom lip with my tongue I can still taste her and the faint taste of peppermint. I miss her.
“Done,” Mac huffs, pulling the door down.
Flicking my cigarette into the night, I blow a cloud of smoke and climb in behind the wheel. Machete climbs into the passenger seat, a scratch across his face, I furrow my brows.
“What the fuck happened to you?”
Raising his large hand, he touches his cheek.
“She’s a wildcat, that one.” He chuckles.
Shaking my head, I start the truck up and don’t ask. Raven and Machete… they’re nuts.
Resting my elbow halfway out the window, I pull away from the clubhouse, which is still in full swing of Christmas Eve celebration, hopefully, nobody will even notice us gone.
The fucking Chinese man we’re dealing with is a prick and could care less about the holidays. So, I’m getting him his shit, collecting the money, and getting home to my family before Jillian pistol whips my ass.
Pulling onto South Road A, my palms begin to sweat when I see the unmistakable red and blue lights of the state trooper just ahead.
“You sure this is the only route?” Machete asks, the uneasiness of his voice falling from his mouth loosely.
“I’m sure.”
He kicks his feet up on the dash and cracks his knuckles.
“We’re going to need a goddamn Christmas miracle not to get pulled over,” he murmurs.
Looking in my side mirror, I see my boys a few car lengths back. Knowing they have my back if these troopers try anything is refreshing, but I hope nothing does go down. Blood will be shed, lives will be taken, and Christmas will not be happening in the Deluca household.
Pulling forward, a trooper leaning against his car lifts his head. His eyes spotting mine knowingly.
He knows who I am.
He pushes himself off the hood of his car, and juts his head, saying something to his partner.
“We’ve been spotted,” Machete growls.
“Play it cool,” I whisper.
The trooper takes a step forward and stops. Grabbing his radio on his shoulder, his body tenses.
It confuses me. My brows furrowing, I don’t take my eyes off the two.
“What are they doing?” Machete questions.
I don’t answer because I don’t know.
Sirens behind us have us both whipping around in our seat. A bright red car is barreling down the road, with red and blue lights flashing behind it.
The red Corvette flies by us, slaying the road with its speed and precision. The sheriff car trying it’s hardest to keep up racing past us.
The troopers look at us with apprehension, not sure which would be the bigger bust for them.
Staring at them with hooded eyes, I will them to take the chase.
Seconds that feel like minutes pass before both of the troopers fumble into their car, and begin pursuit, leaving the road free to pass.
Machete slams both his hands on the dash. “Go! Go! Go! Now is our chance to get while the gettin’ is good!”
My foot pushes the pedal to the floor, and the sluggish box van begins to pull forward.
“Ha! What are the fucking odds?” Machete laughs.
I don’t laugh. This seems too easy, too convenient.
“Did you get a look at who was driving the sheriff’s car?”
He chuckles. “Who gives a fuck?”
My head snaps to the left. “I do.” His face falls, his humor dissipating. “I have a strong feeling that was my fucking fiancée doing me a favor.” My words laced with a bitterness I clench my teeth. My hands white-knuckling the steering wheel.
Jillian loves her job and I don’t want her risking it because of me. We made a deal, she stays on her side of the blue line and I stay on mine. I’m the wolf and she’s the sheepdog.
It’d kill me to corrupt her to the point of destruction.
3
Jillian
Chewie turns left at the intersection, and I quickly turn right. Cutting the wheel a little too hard, the tires nearly come up off the pavement and my head slams into the window.
“Fuck!” Anger and pain rush through my chest as I gain control of the car. Looking in the rearview mirror, the state trooper behind me catching up, I slow down hoping they will follow me and not Chewie.
My heart is pounding so hard I feel it in my throat. My forehead beading with sweat.
I’ve never done something so reckless; so lawless. My adrenaline is pumping so fiercely through my limbs I feel high.
Nibbling my bottom lip, I glance in the rearview mirror. The trooper car stops at the intersection and I stop breathing.
“Follow me. Follow me,” I will them to turn the damn wheel.
Their lights bounce and reflect off the road behind me as they speed to catch up with me.
I exhale a sigh of relief and take them further into the darkness before hitting my brakes.
Opening the door, I shine the spotlight into the desert as if I’m looking for the suspect.
“Did you lose him?” a trooper asks.
“The Corvette turned his lights off, and I lost him about a mile back,” I lie, and it causes my chest to sting.
The things we do for love.
“Fuck!” The trooper kicks his tire. “I had the president of the Sin City Outlaws back at my traffic stop, I bet he’s long gone now.”
I keep my head away from him just in case he’s been informed about me dating Zeek.
“Come on, let’s get back there,” the other trooper suggests. I keep my head forward and continue shining the light into the dark until they pull away.
When silence falls upon my shoulders, I turn finding the road behind me empty.
Nearly tripping inside my squad car, I reach for my cell phone and dial Chewie.
“Whoooo! You couldn’t catch me if I let you!” he hollers into the speaker, nearly busting my damn eardrum.
“Did my boys get through?” I ask with a shaky voice, the adrenaline starting to fade.
“Yeah, they got through.”
“How do you know?”
“Um,” the phone goes quiet.
“Th-thanks again Chewie.” My voice cracks with emotion. Clutching the phone a little tighter, my lips press into a tight line to keep from tearing up.
I’m not sure if it’s from the fact I went against my badge or that my fiancé will be home for Christmas.
“Hell ya, anytime.” He chuckles, and I click the phone off. Chewie works for my lover, I know it.
Zeek
Heading to the drop off at the back of a Chinese restaurant, I slam the van into park. Felix and Mac pulling up behind me on their motorcycles.
Climbing out, I shut the door and the smell of Chinese food greets me. The building is two stories high, and painting Red and Gold. The Chinese Man.
For a filthy druggy, I’ve been told he has the best Chinese food on the south side.
“’Bout time you show up.” Looking to my left a short Chinese man emerges from the darkness. He’s wearing a suit with a red tie and a fedora hat.
Six men following closely behind him, their arms by their sides they look like a little Chinese Army.
“Little overkill there, don’t ya think?”
He laughs, running his index finger over the rim of his hat.
“Only knowing you by the notorious Zeek, I don’t trust you,” he insults.
“Good, call.” Felix cracks his neck, a sly smile on his face.
“Well, when you’re a dick and wanting drugs on Christmas Eve or else, I can’t be held for my actions, what can I say?” I hold my hands out wide.
Machete and Felix step forward, their guns drawn protecting Mac when he enters the back of the restaurant. The Chinese man’s face goes pale.
“You fuc
k on me?” He holds his hands out, the language barrier becoming thicker. He thinks I’m going to rip him off on this deal, but I have no such plans.
“Just a mere lesson on how to respect those who run these streets.” I smile. Raising my hand, I run my thumb back and forth over my bottom lip, my eyes staring into the little man on a power trip before me.
Just then the back door opens to the restaurant and Mac appears with a Chinese woman screaming in a different language.
“No!” The Chinese man runs to her aid, and I raise my gun. Making him stop.
“Oh, so you are a man of family.” I tilt my head to the side. “Funny, because you’re keeping all of us from ours, risking us being thrown in jail and for what?”
“I sorry. I sorry, p-please. Just take the money and go.” He snaps his fingers, and one of his mini soldiers throws a duffle bag onto the parking lot ground.
Insulted that he thinks my priorities can be bought, I pull the trigger on my gun, lodging a bullet into his leg.
He screams and drops to the ground. His so-called army panics, and runs behind a nearby garbage can, and empty crates to the left of it. Taking cover, I know it’s only a matter of seconds before they return fire.
“If they fire their weapons at me and my boys, I shoot again,” I warn.
“No shoot!” he tells his crew, his voice crippled with pain.
Mac laughs, pushing the girl toward the Chinese man. Striding toward me, he stops a foot from me. Chomping on a Crab Ragoon.
“What the fuck man?” I shake my head. He’s always finding food when we’re on a job.
“Gotta eat, man.” He shrugs, stuffing his mouth. Reaching out, I grab his cut and pull him behind me.
“We good?” I glare at The Chinese man.
“Good!” he clips fast.
“Enjoy your night.” My tone dry.
4
Jillian
Looking at the mess of cookie cutters and flour scattered all over the counter from my mom making Christmas cookies, the front door to the house opens and slams. I jerk with the rage behind the slamming of the door.
He knows.
Inhaling a long breath for strength I turn, my hands behind me on the counter.
“I wasn’t sure if you were going to make it.” I mask a smile.
Zeek strides through the house, slowly making his way to the kitchen. His black hair messy in his brown dominate eyes capturing the words straight from my mouth.
His black leather cut wrapped around his strong shoulders, and black shirt stretched to the max.
You’d think having sex as many times as I have with Zeek I’d be used to the perfection underneath that shirt, but I’m not. Every time he takes his clothes off and that fucking six pack hits me like a ton of bricks, I lose my breath.
“Where were you tonight?” His tone of voice dark.
“I was… here,” I lie, the words like fire as they run across my tongue.
He gently grasps my chin, turning my head into the light.
“Where did you get that knot on your head?”
I open my mouth to explain but close it quickly. I suck at this lying shit. I can’t do it, and by the look in Zeek’s irises, he knows I’m lying through my teeth.
“You were in the sheriff’s car, weren’t you?” He’s stating rather than asking.
“Merry Christmas?” I reply meekly.
“Goddamn it, Jillian!” He turns away from me, his body tense and cold.
“What would you have me do?”
He whips around, his face red.
“If you would have gotten hurt or caught playing on the wrong side of the law and lost your job because of me… it’d kill me!”
His fist pounds at the center of his chest, his words wrapped with so much endearment it takes me aback.
“I had a choice.” I point at him. “Bleed blue or make sure my fiancé was home for Christmas. It killed me to do what I did, but I did it for us.” As strong as I try to be, the crack in my voice gives me away. My eyes filling with tears.
In one step, he’s back in my space, the smell of leather slightly grounding my rational thoughts.
“Don’t, ever do that again,” he whispers, his fingers trailing along the soreness on my temple.
As long as Zeek is the outlaw, and I’m the sheriff things will always be messy between us. His foot will cross my line, and I will cross his. If we don’t, we won’t make it.
His mouth seeks mine, taking away the words I overthink a million times. The rehearsing of sentences before he arrived blurring with the taste of beer from his tongue.
Our desire gone manic, his hands frantically pull at my jeans, while I tear his cut down his massive arms.
His lips are on my neck, my breathing thick and labored.
“You’re my rookie, stay that way, baby,” he whispers against my skin.
“I can’t help it, you make me dangerous,” I reply breathy.
Pants and panties gone to the kitchen floor, his jeans down to his ankles I help him lift his shirt over his head.
My mouth drops looking at his tight abs, and the fucking V-shape leading down to his erect cock. I run my nails down his hard body, my heart picking up its pace, I feel it in-between my legs.
Fisting each of my thighs, he places me on the counter. The feel of a cookie cutter cutting into my ass cheek. I wince, lifting my right thigh, I pull it out. The shape of a Christmas tree slightly cut into my flour-covered butt cheek.
Tossing the cutter in the sink, I tense when metal against metal echoes through the house.
It doesn’t stop Zeek though.
He grabs my tit heavily, leaving behind a flour handprint, his mouth nibbling and sucking on my bottom lip.
I open my legs to him, and the tip of his cock finds my heat instantly. Filling me with his thickness, my whole body swells with desire.
My nails dig into his back, pulling him close as pleasure riddles through my limbs.
He thrusts hard, a grunt vibrating his chest.
My body slides back and forth on the counter from the leftover cookie mess, my body coiling around Zeek like a lifeline as waves of pleasure take me from this earth.
I try to remain quiet, to hush my cries of satisfaction, but they cannot be contained when Zeek fucks me like this. When he’s angry and possessive. As if him fucking me is imprinting his declaration of his ruling into my soul.
“You wanna play, bad girl?” He drives into me harder, and my hands fling to the side of the counter. “I’ll show you what naughty girls get.” He nips at my collarbone, and my eyes flash with passion. Seeing his hard-veiny cock slipping in and out of me causes my lips to part slightly. It’s so erotic and heightens everything that much more. “I’m going to fuck you raw, so every time you move too fast you will think of me, and you’ll remember where you stand in our relationship.”
I pull away from him and see fire dancing in his eyes.
“You are my rookie, and I’m your outlaw.”
Swallowing down the words I want to spew at him, I nod. Because otherwise he might stop fucking me, and it feels so goddamn good I’d slump to the floor in one giant void if he withdraws from me just to argue his point.
“You’re my outlaw,” I pant.
“Good girl.” A chaste kiss on the forehead is barely felt as he pounds into me so hard my legs are nearly in the air to allow him to move back and forth so swiftly.
Flour hangs in the air, our bodies painted with a light dusting, as the smell of sex and vanilla surround us.
My sex clenches, a warmth so hot and powerful starting in my toes and creeping up my legs like an out of control wildfire.
He grunts, his fingers nearly piercing the flesh on my thighs. Taking my hands from the counter I clutch each of his ass cheeks, wanting him deeper.
“Yes! Yes! Yes!” I pant, closing my eyes. Like a flick of a Bic lighter, I combust into a million little pieces as I come so hard I can’t contain the cry slipping from my swollen lips.
Zee
k slaps his hand over my mouth, his body tense and his hips jerking as the familiar liquid warmth fills my sore pussy.
Taking a step back, his cock slides free from my wetness. Goosebumps race along my skin from the sudden void, and I cross my arms.
“I uh, I got you something too.” He rubs the back of his neck in a suddenly anxious manner.
“You did!” I ask a little too excited.
A small smirk plays on his face. He bends down, pulling his jeans up over his flour-covered butt cheeks.
Stepping out of the house, I take the opportunity to slide off the counter and retrieve my panties from the floor.
Just as I get them on, Zeek re-enters the house. He’s shirtless, his jeans so low I can see that damn V disappearing into his pants. His arm is twisted behind his back, hiding the gift he got me.
“I didn’t have time to wrap it, not that I would know how to.” Oh my God, he’s so nervous it’s cute. Big biker scared his baby momma won’t like his Christmas gift.
He pulls his hand out from behind his back, and a black leather cut causes my knees to go weak.
