SAVING REBEL: Renegade Rebels Motorcycle Club

by Palomino, Honey

  “Now, you should have told me that was you. I never would have touched you, if I had known. But, goddamn, if you don’t look different, Rebel.” His eyes grew serious as he stared at me. “You look good, though.”

  “But listen, I feel like this is my fault. If Harley hadn’t seen that, things might have turned out differently. And there’s no way we can let you stay on the street another night. You should’ve come here sooner.”

  “Yeah…I guess.” My heart filled with hope when he said I could stay.

  “But you can’t stay at the clubhouse, either.”

  “Why not? I’ll be fine. I practically grew up there!”

  “Well, that’s when you were a just a kid. It’s not much of a place for a nineteen year-old girl to hang out. There’s a lot of horny dudes there.”

  “Including you?” I asked him teasingly.

  “Yeah, including me. Fuck. Listen, that can’t happen again. Harley is pissed now, but if it happens again, now that I know it’s you, he’ll fucking knock my head off.”

  “Well, Mason, Harley hasn’t been around me for a long time, so as far as I’m concerned, he doesn’t get the privilege of pretending to be the protective big brother. I can do whatever…and whoever…I want.”

  “I hear what you’re saying, but trust me, Rebel - it’s never happening again, you got it?”

  “Sure, sure, whatever.”

  “Okay, good. Now that we’re clear, you can stay at my house until Harley cools off, then we’ll ask him if you can stay with him. Maybe I can help you get a job and an apartment. But in the meantime, you can hang at my place. I have an extra bedroom you can use.”

  I threw my arms around his neck, bouncing with excitement, the satin fabric of my bikini rubbing against his leather vest.

  “Oh, thank you, Mason!” I said, pulling back.

  The snap on his vest caught my bikini top, pulling it down as I backed away. My breast fell out, my hardened nipple protruding in the breeze.

  We both looked down at it, motionless. Slowly, I raised my hand to cover my breast and raised my eyes to meet Mason’s gaze. I bit my bottom lip and batted my eyes at him.

  “Whoops. Sorry about that…” I whispered.

  He groaned, his gaze fiercely fixed on mine.

  “Watch yourself, baby girl. Watch yourself. Come on,” he commanded gruffly.

  I’d rather watch you, I thought, as he stood up and walked away.

  As I followed closely behind him, his muscular ass provided me with the best view I’d had in a long, long time.

  ☼ ☼ ☼ ☼ ☼ ☼

  Flying down Central Expressway with Rebel’s arms wrapped around my waist, I reminded myself that I tried to let her walk away. But something in the way her lip quivered when Harley yelled at her tore me up, and I couldn’t help but feel responsible.

  I knew Harley had been worried about her. He had mentioned her often over the years, expressing his disappointment, guilt and regret at the way things turned out. It was hard on him, and I knew it.

  And he knew I never would have fucked his little sister if I had known it was her.

  But I had fucked her. Hard. She had turned into quite the little sexy vixen over the years, and I wished like hell she had been someone else.

  I should have known, though. By her eyes. Her voice. Something had nagged at me about her, and I should have listened to my fucking instincts before I bent her over my bike. But the way she had fingered the leather on the bikes had turned me on in a way I hadn’t felt in years, and when she untied that bikini top, there was no turning back.

  And goddamn, it was fucking amazing. Even if it was incredibly wrong.

  My body was in a constant fight between my raging cock and my guilty spirit, as I watched her walk out of the parking lot and sit at the bus stop.

  Harley had been rough on her, and it was all my fault.

  I had only intended to give her a ride, but when she said she didn’t have a place to live, I felt like even more of an asshole. I was positive that if Harley knew that, he wouldn’t let her spend another night on the streets.

  But he was in no shape to change his mind right now. Maybe if he hadn’t been tortured with the vision of his best friend making out with his sister, he might be a little more willing to listen. But if there was one thing I knew about Harley, it was to stay far, far away from him when he’s angry.

  It would all be alright. Rebel could stay in my extra bedroom for a few days, we’d talk to Harley again, and then she could go stay with him until she found a job. She just needed a little stability and support, and she would be fine.

  The hot Texas sun beat down on us as we sat in traffic on the expressway. Sweat was pouring down my back, and while I normally wouldn’t even notice much, I couldn’t help but think about it with Rebel’s practically naked breasts smashed against my back.

  When her tit fell out again at the bus stop, it took all my willpower not to touch her again. Visions of scooping her up and bending her over my bike again filled my head, and I had surprised even myself with my steel resolve.

  She was not going to be a easy one to resist, especially now that I had a taste of her sweet body. I was determined, but I was beginning to see a lot of cold showers in my future.

  Hopefully, Harley would cool off sooner than later, because if my cock stayed this engorged all the time she was around, I was going to have a serious problem.

  We sat idly in a long line of cars, barely inching along. Rebel’s hand slipped down, the need for holding on tightly abandoned for the moment. Her hands rested on my thighs, inches from my pulsing cock, and I took a deep breath and willed my erection to go away.

  It was impossible. Those tits on my back, her breath on my neck, and the pressure of her thighs on the outside of my own - I knew if she were to touch my cock at that moment, it would explode right there on the expressway.

  And I think she knew it, too. She kept wiggling around behind me, her every movement an assault on my senses.

  “Can’t you be still?” I yelled, turning my head so she could hear me through my helmet.

  “I’m just trying to get comfortable. I haven’t been on a bike in a really long time. It feels so good, Mason!” She wiggled more, her nipples poking into my back.

  I groaned, shook my head, and tried to think of something, anything, that would keep me distracted.

  My cock grew even harder in my jeans, and I knew I was in for a major challenge.

  ☼ ☼ ☼ ☼ ☼ ☼

  “Fuck!”

  I slammed my fist in the wall, cussing at the top of my lungs. I knew the other members could hear me, but I didn’t give a shit. I was pissed, and it was best if everyone knew it, so they could stay out of my way.

  Especially Mason.

  Fuck Mason. What a fucking moron. Did he have such little control over his prick that he couldn’t keep it in his fucking pants long enough to ask a girl her name?

  “Goddammit!” I yelled, hitting the wall again. My knuckles were bleeding, but the pain felt good. It masked the pain I felt inside, helped me ignore the creeping guilt for turning Rebel away.

  I knew my old man would be pissed when he heard about it, but fuck him too. Maybe he and my mom should have been more careful before getting locked up in the fucking pen while they still had kids to raise.

  What did he expect me to do? I was the president now, and the decisions were mine to make. Of course Rebel couldn’t join the fucking club. Was she out of her mind?

  Sure, I guess I could have let her stay with me, but when I saw her standing there with her tits out, her tongue down Mason’s throat like she was trying to crawl inside, I just couldn’t think straight.

  I was so pissed at Mason, and I knew it was going to take me a long time to get over it. If I had thought for one minute that he knew it was my kid sister, then he wouldn’t have been standing.

  I couldn’t blame him too much, though. Fuck, I didn’t even recognize her myself. She looked like a completely different person.
All grown up. For the most part, that is. That pouty look she gave me when I told her she couldn’t stay turned her right back into a twelve year old in my head.

  “Motherfucker!” If I kept punching the wall, I was going to break a hand. And at this point, the pain wasn’t doing it’s job anyway.

  I took a deep breath and sat down at my desk, wiping the blood from my fingers with a dirty bandana. I pulled a bottle of whiskey from my desk drawer, drawing on it slowly as I remembered Rebel when she was a little kid.

  She had always been a pain in the ass, but I loved her. When my parents brought her home from the hospital, I was only six years old, and I was fascinated by her every movement and sound. When she bellowed out her first belly laugh, it was me that she was laughing at. I played with her for hours, and after I got older, and my parents got busier, I ended up being the one watching over her most of the time.

  Unfortunately, once I got to be a teenager, she became a nuisance to me as my priorities shifted and I wanted to be out running with the other teen boys in the neighborhood, including Mason, and while I tried to stay as nice as possible, I began to resent being the one in charge of her. I wanted to be a normal teenager, not saddled with a kid.

  I resented her, and I resented my parents. And when they went away, after everything that went down, I felt bad for Rebel, but I hoped she could find a way to adjust to life in a ‘normal’ family.

  I hoped she would change her name back to Jill, not use the stupid nickname my father gave her after he started the MC. He said it ‘fit’ her, but my mother hated it. When Mom insisted on continuing to call her Jill, Rebel rejected her real name even more, embracing the new moniker with a vengeance, determined to live up to her name every single day.

  And she did. She got in trouble at school. The cops would bring her home weekly - once she had broken into the school office to try to steal the petty cash, and another time she tried to walk out of Sears with a brand new pair of boots on her feet. She was really good at getting in trouble.

  But Dad seemed to be proud of her efforts, he said he admired her spirit. And it only fueled the fire in her. She yearned for his attention, and yet as she got older, less cute and more rebellious, he turned away from her, claiming he was too busy with the club to spend any time with her.

  And it hurt her. She tried not to let us see, but I could see right through her. Unfortunately, I was singing the same tune as my dad, turning eighteen and knee deep in the daily search for weed and pussy. Then, the bust happened, and our entire family was torn apart, eliminating even the appearance of a family unit.

  I took another draw from the bottle, and lit up a joint that was lying on my desk. As I inhaled the sweet smoke, I remembered that day like it was yesterday.

  Rebel, Mason and I were at the clubhouse, hanging out and playing pool. It was Rebel’s twelfth birthday, and we were celebrating by doing what we did most days. Just the three of us, passing the time in whatever way caught our attention first. We loved being at the clubhouse. We didn’t think anything of the constantly inebriated club members, the cussing, the pot smoke or booze drenched floors — it was comfortable, because it was all we had ever known.

  Mason and I were in the middle of a game, and Rebel was in the corner, painting her fingernails black. She had spent the last six months in her goth stage, refusing to wear anything that wasn’t black. Even her lips were smeared with black lipstick, and her eyes were lined with thick black eyeliner.

  The three of us jumped when we heard the first loud bang at the heavy, locked door of the clubhouse.

  “Under the table!” I screamed at Mason and Rebel, pulling them under the pool table for protection. I don’t know why I thought to go under the table, instead of running out the back door, but that’s what we did.

  We huddled under there, watching the gruesome scene unfold before us. I tried to shield Rebel’s eyes, but she fought me, insisting she needed to see what was going on.

  My dad came out of his office, a shotgun in his hands, just as the battering ram succeeded in bashing the door open. Bright sunlight steamed in, silhouetting the cops decked out in full riot gear. They flew in, one after the other, dozens of them, screaming at the top of their lungs, forcing the MC members down on the floor.

  My dad was having none of it. He opened fire, screaming right back at the cops, shooting whatever he could hit before they reached him and shoved him to the ground. We watched, shuddering in fear, as the cops beat the shit out of him, kicking him in the head and ribs, blood pouring out of his mouth as they handcuffed him.

  They found mom huddled in the closet in the office, surrounded by bricks of cocaine and cash. Luckily, they didn’t hurt her, even though she did her best to hurl every cuss word and insult that she could think of at them. I think she was even more insulted that they just laughed at her as they handcuffed her.

  By the time the cops found us under the table, Rebel was crying and shaking with fear. I felt terrible for her, and I was scared too. I knew my parents were going away for a long time once I saw the three dead cops lying on the ground. All I can remember is thinking at the time is how grateful I was that I was eighteen so I could take care of Rebel.

  But things didn’t go that way.

  And now here we were. Seven years later and she shows up at my club, and this time, no courts could get in the way of me helping her.

  And what do I do? I yell at her and send her away again.

  What a wonderful brother I was.

  “Son of a bitch!” I threw the bottle of whiskey against the door, the glass shattering on the floor.

  ☼ ☼ ☼ ☼ ☼ ☼

  Mason’s house was just what I expected. Bare, masculine, and no frills. But it was a house. With a roof. And a bed that was all mine to sleep in.

  “I’m so thankful for this, Mason,” I said to him as we made dinner together that night. We hadn’t been there long before he started pulling steaks out of the fridge and turning on the grill outside. “You don’t have to go to all this trouble, though, really.”

  “Nah, it’s okay. I figure it’s been a while since you had a good meal.”

  He was right. It all looked so good, and I was starved. But it did seem like a little much. I felt terrible for deceiving him earlier, even if it had felt like heaven at the time. He was being so nice now, and I didn’t feel like I deserved it.

  But it was a far cry from the bridge I had slept under last night, so I wasn’t about to turn it down. If it weren’t for the enticing sight of Mason, still wearing his cut and standing in the kitchen chopping vegetables, I would have already been tucked between the clean sheets of the bed in his guest room. I couldn’t wait to feel the cool cotton sliding across my feet.

  “Listen, Rebel, why don’t you go take a shower while I cook? You have some other clothes in that backpack of yours?” His gaze raked across my chest again, making the bikini top I was wearing seem incredibly inappropriate.

  “Um…sure, that’d be nice, thanks.” I felt like a fool. A silly little girl going into the clubhouse playing dress up and causing my plan to go completely awry. I drank in the sight of Mason once more, and I forgave myself quickly, though. How could I have ever resisted this man?

  I sighed, and walked back into the living room, grabbing my backpack and heading for the bathroom. A shower sounded incredible.

  “You can find clean towels in the cabinet!” Mason yelled after me as I walked down the hallway.

  As I passed by his bedroom, I looked over my shoulder to make sure he wasn’t watching me, and tiptoed into his room, putting my backpack on the floor.

  It smelled like him. His whole house did. Whiskey. Leather. The faint smell of sweat and masculinity. My body ached at the memory of him sliding into me, and once again, I shuddered with yearning for more as I slowly walked around his room, looking at his things.

  The bedroom was simple and sparse. An unmade bed was pushed against the wall, and a chest of drawers was against the opposite wall. I walked over to it, and pic
ked up a photograph of him and Harley when they were eighteen. It must have been taken right around the time our parents went away. I remembered them like this. It was disarming to see both of them as grown men now.

  Especially Mason. I didn’t think anyone could get any manlier than him. My nipples hardened as I looked over at his bed, and I wondered how many women he had taken to bed here. My heart swelled with pain thinking about it.

  What the hell was wrong with me? He’s my brother’s best friend — hell he’s practically family to me, and the last thing I needed was to be obsessing over him.

  I turned to walk out of the room and stopped dead in my tracks when I saw Mason standing in the doorway watching me.

  “Oh, sorry…I was just looking around. I saw this picture of you and Harley and thought I’d check it out.”

  “Yeah, it seems like so long ago, doesn’t it? That was taken right around the last time I saw you.”

  “Yes, it does. I guess we’re both different people now, huh?”

  Mason smiled, his eyes lighting up as he looked at me.

  “Well, baby girl, you certainly are. I still feel like the same kid in that picture.”

  “Oh, no, Mason,” I looked him up and down, my body aching for his touch. “You’ve grown up quite a lot yourself.”

  He cocked his head, looking at me with a strange mixture of curiosity and desire.

  “Well, grown ups or not, here we are. Don’t worry about Harley, he’ll come around.”

  “Yeah…” I said, walking past him and out of his bedroom. As I got nearer to him, the heat and scent of him radiated from his hulking frame and although I knew I should ask him to move so I could get by without having to rub up against him, no words came out of my mouth. I slithered past him, my breasts scraping across his arm suggestively.