Saving Dancer (Savage Brothers MC Book 2)

by Jordan Marie

  “Care Bear?”

  The old nickname rolls from his tongue. It delights and wounds at the same time. The only people to ever use it were Jacob and Jazz. Besides my parents they are the only two people to own my heart. Completely own it. My life has been so empty without them. If Jazz was still alive, she’d know how to reach Jacob, she’d know how to make everything better. Never have I missed my best friend more than I miss her right at this moment.

  “It’s me, Jacob. I wanted to check on you,” I say cautiously, walking a few more steps towards him.

  “Why?” He asks, his voice is slurred and full of confusion.

  “I wanted to see you. I thought you might need me,” I respond honestly.

  “Care Bear always wearing your heart on your sleeve, world will eat you alive someday.”

  I wish I could argue with him, but that has pretty much happened.

  “Let’s get you in bed. You’re tired,” I say, standing in front of him, praying I am distracting him enough.

  “I’m fucking tired of it all,” he says, as his eyes close. A grimace of pain bathes his face and it breaks me. The pain seems so huge, so engrained in him I want to curl myself around him and cry.

  “I know, Jacob. I want to help you. Let’s get you in bed. It’ll look better in the morning,” I lie, wishing it was the truth.

  “It’ll never be better.”

  I slide my hand around the gun gently, hoping he doesn’t notice.

  “Someday it will. You just have to hold on, Jacob. Isn’t that what you told me all those years ago?” I ask. I pull on the gun, thanking God that he seems to be concentrating on my words. He doesn’t realize he is giving it to me.

  The weapon feels weird and heavy in my hands. I don’t like it, anything about it really. I want it far out of his reach, but I can’t do that just yet. I back up to put the gun on top of the television. I don’t want to turn my back on him. I’m afraid if I lose eye contact with him that he might sober up enough to know I’m really here. I’m pretty sure he doesn’t register the fact right now. If he did, he’d be screaming for me to leave…or using the gun on me.

  “You shouldn’t be here,” he says, sounding even more confused.

  “I know,” I agree walking over to the bed and turning it down. Finally, I make it back in front of him. His eyes look so dark and bleak. I wish it was a trick of bad lighting, but I know better.

  “I told you to leave me alone.”

  “I know that too,” I agree and take his hand into mine. It’s big and rough. The feel of it is like coming home. I wish I could freeze the way my heart feels when his hand grasps mine. Freeze it and hold it with me forever, because I know this will be all he ever gives me. This is it and I’m only getting it now because he doesn’t realize it.

  “Come on let’s lie down for a bit. When you wake up in the morning, I’ll be gone.”

  Instead of letting me pull him up, he yanks me down onto his lap. I gasp and brace myself on his chest.

  “What…what are you doing?”

  “Giving you a taste of what you’ve been wanting for years,” He growls and then his lips are on mine.

  At the first touch of our lips, sensation flames through my body. His tongue runs over my bottom lip and his teeth nibble against it and he slowly sucks it inside his mouth. I should hate it, the taste of alcohol is heavy on him and the flavor isn’t what I have dreamed of all these years. Yet, instead of pushing him away, my hand moves up to his head. The short hair teases against my fingers. It’s one more sensation to add to a million, as he releases my lip and then pushes his tongue inside my mouth.

  I’m twenty years old. By that age most women have slept with a man, or more than one. They have been in relationships, they have held hands, they have been kissed and they have been in some type of love. I have never had any of that, save the last.

  I have been in love with Jacob since the moment my little five-year-old-self laid eyes upon him. I know that sounds stupid. I know that others wouldn’t understand. The thing is, even knowing that, it doesn’t make it any less true. I love Jacob Blake completely. I always have.

  That makes sitting here in his lap, feeling his arms around me, pulling me down against him, feeling his erection ground against my ass…surreal. There are so many things bombarding me. I can’t even begin to decipher them.

  All of these thoughts are flowing through my brain, but not registering. Nothing registers, because the dark whiskey soaked taste of Jacob is invading my body. His tongue forges into my mouth and claims it as his. Investigating every inch he can, he devours and drinks from me. There is nothing I can do, but accept it. Tentatively my tongue follows his lead and dances in tandem with his.

  His hand wraps around my hair and pulls me harder into him. Our teeth clash, and I try to pull away, unsure if I am doing this right. He won’t let me. He takes the kiss further. He takes my mouth harder, demanding more. I am unsure of what to give but I try, nothing has ever felt this wonderful in my life.

  “God Care, you taste so fucking good, so clean. I need more.”

  I hear his words and my heart fills. After so long of not hearing that nickname, Jacob is giving it to me. He’s saying the name he gave me and kissing me. Even better, hearing Jacob say it with his voice so full of hunger and need…there are no words, just dreams coming true.

  My heart is beating out of my chest. The last time Jacob called me Care Bear was that horrible night over two years ago. The night that I have cursed and wished I could erase for both of us. I was so stupid, so very stupid.

  The only thing good from that entire night was the moment Jacob took my shaking body into his arms and held me. He kissed the top of my head and whispered the sweetest words I have ever heard in my life.

  It’ll be okay, Care Bear. I got you. I’ll never let anyone hurt you.

  Ever since, especially after my parents died, I would lie in bed thinking of Jacob. I would hear those words, those exact words with Jacob’s voice in a soft loving timber and I wouldn’t feel alone.

  He pulls the shirt I am wearing over my head in one swoop. My arms go up to help because honest to God, I want more of whatever he will give me. I have wanted this since I was old enough to know what two people could do together.

  He grasps my breast, covering it completely, kneading it and stealing my breath all at the same time.

  “So perfect.”

  I hear his voice as if it is somewhere in the distance and through a great fog. I have so many new feelings and sensations it feels almost as if I’m sailing away.

  “Jacob,” I moan as his lips leave mine. I take in some much needed oxygen. His mouth goes down my neck, his teeth nipping along the skin with just enough pressure that I can’t tell if it is pain…it is just exquisite. My hands are biting into the arms of the chair we are in. My body starts rocking against him without me even realizing it. I push my ass against his hard erection. His jeans are in the way, I want more. I need more. My movements are out of rhythm, but it feels like I am on fire.

  He stands up with me, one hand on my breast, the other around my stomach holding my back tight against his front. I push my head against his shoulder as he continues his assault. There will be marks on my neck…I want them. I want anything he will give me.

  “I’m going to fuck you, Carrie. I’m going to fuck you so hard you won’t be able to walk tomorrow,” he groans in my ear, his breath hot against my skin.

  His hand moves down my stomach, sliding underneath my panties. I feel his fingers fan out and caress the outer lips of my pussy. My hips thrust out to try and force his hand to move where I want. He increases the pressure of his touch and stills my movements.

  “Don’t worry I’ll give you what you need.”

  His voice grates against my skin, as his fingers slide between my folds. I gasp at the way he immediately begins caressing my clit. Lightly grazing, never giving it enough pressure. Over and over he continues, slowly destroying me. I can feel the blood surging in my body. I’
m twenty years old and though I have never been with a man, I have given myself orgasms. None of them have felt like this. Intense, consuming, I can literally feel it building with a force that scares me. It’s nothing like the lukewarm emotions I’ve had before.

  My hands move behind me, I grab his thighs, needing a connection with him. His fingers push inside me, not all the way but enough that my legs threaten to give out on me. I’m so close, if he would just move his finger over….

  “Take me, Jacob!” I call out, knowing the explosion is about two seconds away. My nails bite into the cheeks of his ass so deeply, so hard, I know I’m marking him too. I want too. I want my mark on him so I …

  He thrusts me away abruptly, pushing me from him with such force, I stumble. I try to catch myself on the bed before I go all the way down, but I can’t. The metal of the bed frame tears into the skin on my lower leg. I pull myself up and turn around to look at Jacob.

  “What…”

  “Get the fuck out of here! I told you I’d rather chop my dick off than have anything to do with you.”

  “But Jacob…you…I…”

  “I was teaching you a lesson,” he growls and picks up my shirt off the floor and throws it at me.

  With everything going on, I didn’t realize I was naked. Before, it felt beautiful, now I feel exposed and dirty. I hold the shirt tight to me, covering my front from him.

  “Think my brother would like knowing you wear his clothes to come and fuck me, Princess? You really are just begging for any man’s cock, aren’t you? Did you tease that bastard two years ago like you just did me? Did you only cry wolf when you noticed me there? Is that how you play your games?”

  His words are full of venom and hate and as I listen to them, I realize he fully believes them. Tears start falling before I can stop them.

  “Oh, poor little rich girl. Turning on the waterworks, get the fuck out of here!”

  That sounds like a great idea. There’s so much I need to digest, so much pain, mine and his. Worse is the fact he called me Princess. It is more hurtful now. For a small space in time I had everything I wanted, when he called me Care Bear. Being called Princess now? A knife couldn’t cut sharper.

  I turn and hobble from the room, my leg hurting and slowing me down. I don’t even care that my ass is hanging out. I just want away from him. I’ll get dressed when I am out of his sight.

  Chapter 7

  Dancer

  I WATCH CARRIE run from me and the disgust curls and foams inside of me. I push my hand hard into my forehead wishing I could stop the memories and the words swimming in my head.

  “FUCK!!!” I yell and start grabbing shit off the table by the chair, throwing it across the room.

  I fall back into the chair holding my head, so fucking exhausted. I lied through my teeth. I want Carrie. I’ve always wanted Carrie in some form or another. She was always a cute little freckle faced girl that my sister adored. As she grew, she was a sweet kid who I looked out for. Then, she became the last real connection I had with Jazz. We helped each other grieve. When she told me at seventeen she loved me, I laughed it off and told her I didn’t think of her that way. Again, I was lying. I seem to do that to Carrie often.

  I had noticed the changes in her body. I would have been a fool not too. She is beautiful and her beauty goes beneath the skin. She has this kindness and gentleness I’ve never found in life—except with her. I’ve always pushed her away because I’m fifteen years older. That’s too damn much and even before the shit of the last two years, I was a twisted fuck. I don’t deserve her. I don’t want any of my darkness to touch her, but I am weakening.

  The night when she showed up at the nightclub I was pissed as hell. She shouldn’t have been there. The bouncer had no business letting her through the front door. She was wearing this sexy little green silk dress that moved with her body and turned every fucking man’s head in the place, something an eighteen year old shouldn’t do. When she stood in front of me asking me to dance, I followed like a lamb to its slaughter.

  It’s been years. My brain is fucked up, I’m half drunk and yet I can still remember how it felt to hold her in my arms that night. How it felt inside when she told me she loved me…when she asked for my kiss. It took everything I had to tell her to go home.

  The minute I saw the tears in her eyes and watched her run from the room, I had to follow her. I fought it for five minutes or so but in the end, I didn’t have a choice. I would rather try and be what she deserved, to ignore all the reasons why I wasn’t the man for her. I would rather try, than cause her pain.

  I thought I missed her. I stood outside the main club doors, looked around and didn’t see her or her car anywhere. I was about to go back in when I heard her scream. I don’t know how I knew it was her, but I did. I ran, my heart filling with fear. I made it to the corner of the building in time to see that fucker backhand Carrie.

  The blow was so hard her head jerked back and blood sprang from the corner of her lip. He ripped the strap of her dress and it separated, leaving her bare breast open to his assault. Before I could move, his hand covered her pale, small white breast. It seemed unreal and froze me in my tracks. She began screaming again and he slammed her against the brick, his hand around her throat, applying so much pressure her voice instantly stopped.

  I lost it, completely and utterly lost it. I know what Dragon said was true because if it had been anyone other than Carrie, I would have done things differently. It was Carrie though. I knew how innocent she was. I knew how precious she was. Seeing someone abuse her, touch her… fucking put his hands on her? I completely lost it.

  I charged in grabbing the knife from inside my cut and I don’t even remember ending the fucker, I just reacted.

  I rub the back of my neck and walk into the living room. I feel strangely sober now, which is a shame because I would rather be lost in a haze of alcohol. It always seems like things are easier to deal with that way. Maybe there’s a bottle I’ve overlooked in the kitchen.

  I was almost in front of the table when Bull throws the door open. It slams against the wall with a loud bang. He stands there glaring at me, catching the door as it comes back toward him. He takes a step in and gives it a push. The door slams behind him.

  A lesser man would have been intimidated. I was probably still fucked up from the alcohol, because strangely I’m not.

  “RED!” Bull calls out.

  I give him a shit-eating grin that I would have gladly knocked off a motherfucker’s face, if I had been on the receiving end. Then, I lean back in the cockiest pose I can muster.

  “RED!” Bull calls out again.

  It is a few minutes before she walks into the living room. She is limping and I feel guilt hit me. I want to help her to the chair and see what’s wrong.

  “What the fuck happened?” Bull barks going over to Carrie and doing that before I can get my alcohol soaked brain to function. He gets down on his knee to look at the damage. It annoys me how protective he is over her.

  “I…I fell,” she says and she looks so innocent and frail sitting at the table. Her hair is mussed up, her lips are swollen from my kiss and my dick jerks in reaction. I can’t see her neck for her hair. It takes all I’ve got not to go over to her and see if I had marked that pale sweet skin. I want Bull to see it.

  “How?” Bull asks, pushing his shirt up to look along her leg.

  Carrie grabs the shirt and holds it tight to her thigh so Bull won’t show more skin and her eyes lock with mine. Bull looks up and he sees Carrie staring over his shoulder. He turns to follow her line of sight, which of course is me.

  “You son of a bitch! I warned you!” Bull growls and drops Carrie’s leg, coming at me in one big movement.

  “Bull!” Carrie yells, but my brother grabs my collar and then throws a punch. I feel the impact of his solid fist cover the top of my hand that I throw up in defense, twisting it away and then coming down to my jaw at an angle. The force is strong and my head jerks with the impact.
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  I immediately step back, and deliver a return hit to his gut. I feel him connect again, this time I drop down so he just hits my shoulder. I deliver another blow and he steps back to refocus. We trade a few more hits back and forth. I finally get a good one connecting under his chin. It sends his body backwards, making him fall against the sofa. I’m not even sure how we made it from the table area to the living room. I’m kind of shocked. I back up thinking that it is over. My brother may be mad at me, but I don’t really want to fight with him.

  I don’t have time to say anything, because Bull recovers quickly and charges with his head down, aiming straight for my solar plexus. I’m pushed back a good five feet or better. We fall from the force of the hit. I slam against the kitchen table. It tilts under my weight and I hear a crash and feel a jarring, as the table tips over. Chairs fall in every direction around us as we land. I grab him in a head-lock while he’s trying to deliver a kidney punch.

  We stop when a loud scream draws both our attention.

  “STOP IT!”

  We look up at the same time. Her auburn hair is gorgeous in waves around her face and those wide green eyes are filled with tears. I have the strangest urge to reach out and stop them before they have a chance to fall.

  “Just stop it,” she cries. Bull shoots me another death glare and pulls away.

  “Sit down, Red,” He orders softly and helps her to the chair in the living room. I lay against the upturned table watching them and I feel physically ill.

  He cares about her. You can see it in everything he does and in the way he wants to take my head off. I can do nothing but watch as he sits her down. His large dark hand caresses her. It stands out against her milk white skin. It’s odd watching his large thumb wipe away the tears falling from her eyes. It makes the breath lodge in my throat. How could this happen? How can my brother fall for Carrie? She’s mine.

  “Damn it Red, tell me what happened,” Bull demands, his hand moving along her calf muscle. There’s a bruise and obviously a good size cut that is no longer bleeding, but looks hateful and swollen. It’s ugly against her perfection. More guilt pummels me.