Free Ride

by M. N. Forgy

  Harley is unavoidable.

  I step over to him, my mind racing with what the hell Harley or Farrah might be facing out there. The fact that Harley might come too and be lost, or hurt, making me white-knuckle my rage.

  His cold eyes drop to my face, his thin lips tugging into a tight smirk. He knows I’m at my breaking point, and he also knows if I touch him… the entire club could retaliate against me.

  “She’s your daughter, our princess. If she’s hurt, you’re risking your position at the head of our table,” I threaten him.

  His brows furrow.

  “You want to be the president of this fucking club, son?” His question sounding more of a joke, but the tension in his stance tells me otherwise. I never thought about taking that gavel, but the way our club is in debt and the way Grudge turns his back so quickly on what is ours... taking over might be where I’m needed to keep this club alive.

  Grudge forces out a chuckle, an attempt to lighten the mood.

  “Yeah, well, until then you can be my errand boy.” He insults.

  He opens his palm offering me the pill bottles. I flick my gaze to him.

  “Find her and bring her back. Quietly.” His demand is laced with a silent warning. One that if I don’t obey orders… I’ll pay the price. Or Harley will. I still remember the day his loving father act died, and it was just me defending Harley.

  I search behind the old Rat Rod parked behind the garage when I see her behind the large tire. She’s naked, covered in blood, and shivering.

  “Harley?”

  “Benjamin?” Her chin lifts and her weepy eyes meet mine.

  “Why are you hiding? And naked?” On all fours, she crawls to me. Tugging on my shirt, she makes me lower to her level.

  “I don’t know what happened, Benji, but I think Daddy did something really bad,” she whispers, her eyes filling with tears again. Squatting to the oil-stained concrete, I notice her clothes piled in the corner. I take my leather jacket off and place it on her shoulders to cover her body.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, everyone was on a run and Dad thought I was in my room. I came downstairs and saw him and Buddy fighting. A plant was thrown, and Daddy aimed a gun. One of the club girls ran out of a room naked. Everything went black, and the next thing I know I was standing in a puddle of blood and Dad was dragging a body out the back door.” Her eyes bounce back and forth, her body trembling with fear.

  My eyes widen. Grudge can’t kill another member without a club vote! We might live off the grid by our own way of life, but we do have rules.

  “Are you sure?”

  “I don’t know, I blacked out again,” she cries, her fingers strained in explanation. Her accusing her father of killing a patched-in member is serious business. It means he’s gone rogue. She could lose her dad.

  I pull her to me, and she clutches my shirt trying to climb onto my lap. I let her, wrapping my arms around her. Making her feel safe.

  “Harley, you cannot tell anyone what you saw. Do you understand me?”

  I feel her nod, but she doesn’t say anything. She saw something she shouldn’t have that night, and if Grudge wanted to… he can take her from me to make sure she never spoke of it.

  “Chances are the longer I let her run loose out there, the more she puts me at risk.” My eyes snap to his, the memory fading. He killed Buddy and Totty that day but acted like they went on a side job and went missing. He made it look like they were killed by a rival club, but me and Harley know what happened. He knows Harley knows what happened.

  That is why he hides Harley up here, if anyone knew… he’d be disbanded from the club. Buddy was the club’s pot grower, and Totty was a club whore. I know Grudge wasn’t happy with Buddy raising prices on the crops, but it was because he had been mixing strains and growing some new shit.

  Apparently, a deal went south, and Buddy paid the price. Totty was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. So was Harley.

  I snatch the orange containers from his hand and he grabs hold of my wrist before letting me walk away.

  “Find her, bring her back.” His nostrils flare, his words clipped and angry.

  I obey my president in all things club related, but when it comes to Harley… I’ve never been one to walk the line. I jerk my hand free and glare at him.

  “We’ll see,” I growl. I’m done taking orders from him.

  Maybe Harley and I should just run.

  6

  Farrah

  Standing in line at the coffee shop the overhead air conditioning causes my yellow sundress to tickle my thighs. I brush my bangs from my eyes and tighten my ponytail as I look at the menu above the coffee register when I’m suddenly bumped into from behind. Shoved into once again, I turn, irritated. I swear this campus has no manners.

  A young man wearing a beanie with shaggy hair curling out from underneath looks back at me with dazed eyes. He shrugs as if bumping into me is no big deal, his lips move but I can’t hear him with my earbuds in. He’s probably apologizing. I just nod and turn back around. “Time To Say Goodbye” by Bocelli eases me into the morning hours. My sweaty fingers fumble the change in my hand and I drop the three bucks for my iced coffee. It’s going to be one of those days. Bending down, I pick up the money, not realizing my dress rises just a little too far when I hunch over. An earbud falls from my left ear when my head lolls forward.

  “I could fuck that ass.”

  “You couldn’t handle anal, you’d blow your load in like five seconds.”

  My lips purse from the lewd comments, anger boiling within me so hot I begin to flush. I feel humiliated and slutty. Getting me up the ass is not romantic in the least. My vision wobbles as I feel Harley’s rage bubbling inside of me. If she comes forward, there’s going to be a gruesome scene in this coffee shop.

  “Be a man and look away,” the familiar sound of Professor Prescott sounds, and my fury instantly dissolves into a puddle of desire. My hero.

  Tucking my bottom lip in between my teeth I stand straight and turn around finding professor Prescott with a cup of coffee in his hand. He’s freshly showered, his hair slicked back and wet, the smell of spice overtaking the coffee shop.

  “Mr. Prescott,” I smile, pulling the other earbud from my ear so I can hear everything he has to say. I wouldn’t want to miss a word. I blush, and my skin tingles seeing him defend my honor. He stands at least a foot above me, and his strong hand curled around that cup with a death grip.

  “Class starts in fifteen minutes, don’t be late,” he smiles. Bringing his coffee cup to his mouth, his lips curl over the black lid. His Adam’s apple bobbing as he takes a small sip. Who knew taking a sip of coffee could make a girl wet?

  I tilt my head to the side and wonder if he was being a man and looked the other way like he told those boys to do, or if he was thinking the same thing about my ass.

  “Like you wouldn’t want to hold me after class again?” I reply sultry, and his eyes become ablaze. We stare at each other, our minds silently playing out what he would do with me if I was his naughty student. He wants me, I can see it not only in his eyes but the way he acts. The way his mouth tugs at the corner in an attempt not to smile when he sees me. The hunger in his eyes when they go heavy with lust when our eyes meet.

  “I will see you in class, Farrah.” His smile now tight-lipped, he tries to avoid eye contact. His face not giving anything away as he leaves the coffee shop. He can try to act like he’s unaffected by me, but it’s too late for that, he’s already revealed he wants me.

  I bite my bottom lip, and the line to the register moves forward. Smiling like a school girl with a crush, I step forward leaving Mr. Prescott with a string of dirty thoughts in his head.

  “Let’s talk about poems,” Professor Prescott addresses the class. “Anybody have a favorite from last night’s read?” he prods the class, but everyone is quiet. I forgot to read last night’s assignment. I was too busy eye fucking the teacher’s profile on the campus websi
te. Again

  His eyes fall upon mine, and I suck in a tight breath. He’s going to call on me, I can feel it.

  “Farrah?” he says my name. Not Harley’s, but mine. My heart flutters in my chest, and my eyes become hooded as we stare at one another longer than acceptable for teacher and student.

  “What was your favorite, Farrah?”

  I shrug, twirling my blue pencil along the desktop. Homework, who knew that was really a thing. Maybe he will keep me after and tutor me, but really, we can sit close to each other and get to know one another on a personal level. Stolen glances, soft touches, subtle kisses… sigh.

  “Did anyone read last night’s assignments?” he asks angrily. His arms outstretched as he looks about the room. I clear my throat and sit up looking around the crowd. Seems I’m not the only one who didn’t do homework.

  “No way man, Alpha PI had the sickest party!” a dumb frat boy replies from the front row, and a bunch of people cheer and holler. Professor Prescott sighs before looking at the clock.

  “Class dismissed,” he informs irritated before sitting behind his desk.

  Everyone leaves, but me. I’m drawn to this man. It’s forbidden but exciting. Benjamin and I are not together, no matter what he tells everyone. We’ve slept together a few times because he has this thing about him I just can’t walk away from. Maybe it’s his arrogant personality or his persistent chasing after me that has me giving in to him. Deep down though, I think he loves Harley - not me. Besides, he’s very controlling and looks like an outlaw. Being away from him, I want to play the field. See a different dick, hear the sound of another man orgasm. Will it be quiet, or loud? Will his cock be smaller or bigger than Benji’s?

  My mind reels with thoughts of passionate sex now, my fingers flexed upon my pencil so hard, I nearly break it in two.

  After the last student leaves, he glances up giving me a double take. He didn’t know I stayed behind.

  “Can I help you with something?” he questions in that teacher tone. It makes the heat in my cheeks fade.

  I stand from my desk and step down to him. Placing my hands on the front of his desk I lean over, the front of my dress drooping and showing my bare breasts.

  His eyes catch sight of the loose fabric and my nipples ache watching him stare. I press my dress to my chest and stand upright. The room fills with sexual tension and I clear my throat.

  “Did you attend this party everyone went to last night?” he asks, looking down at some papers. A red pen in his hand. He almost sounds jealous.

  “Why?”

  “It would explain why you couldn’t tell me anything about poems today,” he replies in a fatherly manner.

  “Is having fun a crime? You’re not that old are you?” I joke with a roll of my eyes.

  He stands abruptly, some papers falling to the floor. This catches my attention, I’ve never seen him move so swiftly before.

  My mouth parts as he steps around the desk and behind me. My heart slamming in my chest, my eyes flutter with longing. As if he read my mind, he grips me by the ponytail, wrapping it around his hand for control. Using his free hand, he shoves me forward causing me to bend over his desk. My dress rising to my ass cheeks, showcasing my flower panties.

  I can’t breathe, I’m on fire. My panties soaking wet, and my sex pulsing with eagerness.

  Weight presses along my back from his body, he brushes his lips along the shell of my ear. Closing my eyes, I can’t help the whimper that falls from my sinful lips.

  “Do you like this? Is this what you want?” he growls. “Do you want me to fuck you up the ass with my big cock?” His knees press into my thighs keeping me in place, and my nails scratch into the wooden desk with desire. I was wrong, hearing him want to take me up the ass is more than romantic… it’s fucking erotic!

  He jerks me by the ponytail, my neck arched back as far as it will go. It aches, and I swear it’s about to snap, but I don’t say anything because if he let go it would be the biggest disappointment. Who knew he was so dominant and aggressive when he’s turned on. I want to play with him.

  “Yes, do it,” I moan. His hard-on presses against my backside, and my body pushes against it. The friction causing me to buck against him on its own free will.

  He suddenly pulls away from me, and a cold void wafts around my body. Leaving a chill amongst my heated skin. I look over my shoulder with hooded eyes, my face contorting into embarrassment.

  “What’s wrong?” I ask breathily.

  “I’m married, Farrah.” He closes his eyes, hesitation thick in his voice. Rejection plummets in my stomach, coiling my emotions to the point I want to scream in a rage so powerful the windows burst.

  “Happily?” I swallow hard. Who cares if he’s married, the question is does he care about her?

  His hard eyes hit mine.

  “Hell no. In fact, I wouldn’t be with her if it weren’t for her father,” he belittles his wife. His face turning a red shade.

  “What do you mean?” I ask softly. Was he forced to marry? I don’t understand why someone would stay in a marriage if they didn’t want to be married.

  Rubbing his chin, he shakes his head.

  “Sometimes… you don’t get to pick who your partner is. June was amazing when I met her, but then she turned into a cold-hearted bitch. She doesn’t care about my needs, only her own. She’s materialistic, and I’m not. I need something on a more personal level,” he explains. “I don’t love her, I’m just with her because it’s easier than trying to divorce her. Her dad is the fucking governor, after all.”

  He said it, he doesn’t love her. I have to bite my cheek to keep from smiling like an idiot. That means there’s a chance he could love me. Maybe if we are meant to be together, he’ll even leave her one day.

  With the Shadow Keepers behind my back, we could take out the governor and be really happy.

  Just as I’m about to nod in understanding, he reaches out and palms me by the face harshly, pulling me into him. His touch hard and controlling. His eyes full of lust and want. The battle of what he wants and what is right storms in his eyes.

  Closing my eyes, I lean into his touch for more.

  “Fuck it!” he breathes heavily. His breath smelling of coffee.

  His lips crash onto mine, and I sigh into him. His tongue seeking mine like a hunter in the Amazon. Using his body, he pushes me backward. My feet stumbling with every step until the back of my thighs hit the front of his desk. He grabs me under the thighs and lifts me, throwing me on top.

  My dress rises as I slide along the cold desk.

  I palm his smooth cheeks as his lips continue to kiss and peck the sensitive skin of my neck. It’s as if he can’t taste me enough. Tilting my head back, I close my eyes and get lost in his touch. It’s so sensual and intimate.

  “Little girls like boys,” echoes in my head. I close my eyes not sure where the memory came from.

  “Michael?” a feminine voice catches mine and his attention from the top of the auditorium.

  Michael’s eyes widen as if he just heard a ghost. He grabs some papers by my thighs, his mood suddenly cavalier. As if he wasn’t just tasting me, he pretends to shuffle the papers. Swallowing down my arousal, I quickly slide off the desk to my feet.

  My eyes climb the room finding a woman in a long white dress and big sun hat. Big black glasses cover her face, concealing everything but her snooty nose.

  “That will be all, Farrah,” Professor Prescott dismisses me coldly, and my heart twists until it nearly breaks.

  Clearing my throat, I slide my hands down my dress and give a curt nod.

  “Who is this, dear?” The lady asks, swiping her glasses off her face. Dear?

  “Farrah, this is my wife, June,” Professor introduces us. “She does counseling for some of the students on campus.”

  I may vomit. This is the wife.

  She holds her hand out, a tight-lipped smile attempting her hard face.

  “The governor’s daughter to be exact.
” She tilts her head to the side without a hint of modesty as if her social status means something to me. “You should come see me some time,” her eyes squint as she sizes me up. There’s more to her offer though, I can see the pique in her eyes. She wants to toy with me behind closed doors. She’s unaware that I’ll be the cat and she’ll be the mouse in this game.

  “Oh, Mrs. Prescott. I’m beyond saving,” I whisper huskily. She purses her lips, her brows narrowing in. Her eyes flash with admiration before turning into a glare.

  “Excuse me, I’m late for my next class,” I lie. I just need out of here. My head is swirling with so many thoughts, so many actions, if I don’t leave now I’ll lose control.

  I step past her, but not before looking over my shoulder at the Professor.

  He said he didn’t love her, hopefully he’s not just leading me on to get in my pants.

  Because I’ll kill him.

  7

  Harley

  Sixteen Years Old

  “Harley, can you tell me why you’re here?” I peer through my bangs, a woman sitting in a chair across from me looks at me skeptically. She has brown and gray hair braided into a mess on her head. Wrinkles under her eyes, and she’s wearing a white V-neck, and white pants.

  She looks like a doctor of some kind.

  I look around the room curious how I got here. Last thing I remember was being at the gas station with Viper and Benjamin.

  “Where am I?” I ask, my lips trembling with confusion.

  “Harley? Can you remember anything?” she asks, her head tilted down as she assesses me. I shake my head, my breathing labored as I look around the room. My head hurts, and my vision blurs from the blood racing through my limbs so quickly.

  There’s a bunch of windows on one side of the room, and the other side is covered in posters about not giving up, and yoga positions to help with anxiety. Am I in therapy? A hospital?