by Jc Emery
“You let me have it, and now THIS. IS. MINE,” he says, and presses hard on my clit, sending a slight tremor through my body. I moan and let my head fall onto his chest. He wraps his other arm around my waist to keep me up. He unhooks his finger inside of me and slides three more in. The shock of being filled so suddenly is too much to take and I burst apart in his arms. My legs quake, my breathing stops, and my entire body spasms. I’m clutching his cut like it’s the only lifeline I have and when my head finally clears and he removes his hands from my slick pussy, I realize that he’s claimed me and try to process everything that that means.
Nodding my head out of stupidity and pushing off of his chest, I suck in a much-needed breath and look around slightly dazed. I’m barely able comprehend what he’s said before he’s out of the room.
He claimed me and then left me, and while this is something I’ve fantasized about many a night, while I was alone in my bed, stroking my own pussy and pretending it was Duke-- I don’t want this. I only want him if it’s real, and it never is real with Duke. So I don’t want it.
I’m left looking for my clothes so I can get out of here. I find my pants and pull them up my legs, then find my thong and shove it in my jeans pocket. As I’m pulling the bra tank on, I start to feel myself sobering up and the reality of what I’ve done sneaks up on me. The only thing worse than denying myself Duke is having Duke and then losing him.
Now that I’ve been here, I can’t go back to that place where I bury my feelings for him and pretend that he’s just another member of the club.
Chapter 1
“HAVE YOU HEARD a single word I’ve said?” The words come out of my mouth, but I still can’t believe I’m saying them. I’m way too young for this shit.
“I heard you. Just fucking chill, won’t you?” Jeremy says. My brother’s a good kid—or rather, he’s not that bad of a kid—but he’s got a mouth on him. He wasn’t always so bad, but the older he gets without his dad around the more uncontrollable he gets.
“Then what did I say?” Fuck. I sound exactly like my mother, and I hate that bitch. She should be the one here, dealing with this shit.
“Look,” Jeremy says, standing from his seat at the table. He’s so tall now, just like his dad, Butch. Over six feet with broad shoulders and muscles that have come out of seemingly nowhere. Jeremy’s as tan as anyone gets around here, and despite his size and attitude, he’s still got the same smile he did when he was little.
“I get it. You’re pissed that you had to leave work. Point fucking taken.” Leaning over the back of the chair he was just sitting in, he lets his hair fall into his eyes as his head is tipped down. He looks like a grown man already, and he’s only seventeen.
“No. Point not fucking taken. That shit job I had to leave puts food in that smart mouth of yours. Do me a favor and just don’t hit anybody else after your suspension’s up, okay?”
Tipping his head up slightly, he gives me a blinding smile. “Sure thing, boss.”
“Don’t do that,” I say, letting my head fall into my hands. I’m worn out and figuring that it’s just not worth the fight. As much as I want to do right by the kid, there’s only so much I can do. In less than a year he’ll be eighteen and my guardianship will be over. The only thing I’ll have then is the roof over his head and the fact that we’re the only family each other has. When Butch-- Jeremy’s biological dad, and my step-dad-- went down for something club-related back when I was in high school, we ended up living with the club president and his wife. It didn’t last long though and the president managed to get social services off our asses and me and Jeremy back into our own home. Now, looking at my brother, with all his attitude and arrogance, I can’t remember why I wanted to take this on myself.
Rounding the table, he walks up behind me and kisses the top of my head, saying, “Love you, Sis.”
“No more fighting?” I say, lifting my head and tilting it back to meet his eyes. His eyes are a navy blue that he’s used to melt the panties off more than one of his female peers.
“No more fighting,” he says, backing up into the living room and then turning and walking into his room. I know it’s bullshit, but it’s better than nothing. If I can just keep him off the principal’s radar for the remainder of summer session, he might be able to graduate on time next spring.
Pushing up from the table, I cross the kitchen to my purse atop the counter by the stove, and pull out my small compact mirror. Checking my makeup for signs of wear, I make sure I don’t look half as much of a mess as I feel. I powder my nose and then shove the compact back in my bag and rush out of the house. I’m a total disaster with my bleached blonde hair as messy as ever and my makeup half worn-off. The only thing worse than the way I look right now is the way I feel.
Jeremy’s going to be home for the rest of the week doing God only knows what, but I don’t have that luxury. I have to get back to work and explain to my boss why I had another family emergency.
I lock up the small ranch house Jeremy and I share and take a look up at the sky overhead. The cool air hits my exposed skin, leaving faint droplets of condensation behind. Rushing to my car, an old Toyota Corolla, I yank the driver side door open and slam it behind me before I get too wet. It can’t be above sixty outside and I’m wearing a low-cut black tank top and tight ripped jeans. I’d grab a sweater, but business has been slow this week and I need the tips, especially after missing half of my shift this morning to deal with damn teenage shit.
The engine grumbles to life as reluctant as ever. She’s on her way out, I can tell, but she’s got to hang in a few more years until I can figure something out with my brother. I make a mental note to take her by the shop in Willits. Hopefully she makes it that far without issue. Backing out of the driveway she practically wheezes, then makes a grinding sound as I cut the wheel. I grit my teeth at the thought of having to take her to the shop in town— the only shop in town— Forsaken Custom Cycle.
I haven’t been on Forsaken property in almost two months— not since the night I decided it would be totally cool to act like an idiot and sleep with Duke. Not since he all but claimed me, something most Lost Girls pray for, and then totally disappeared. Not that I give a shit-- or rather-- not that I’m trying not to give a shit. He’s been back in town from wherever he went for weeks now. I’ve seen him ride by Universal Grounds enough times just like he always has. He never stops in, never checks on me. I spent weeks making up excuses for why he’s been absent-- weeks where I let myself think that bullshit where he claimed my pussy was anything more than punishment for making him wait so long. But now I’m done and fuck him.
He knows where I live, and he knows where I work, and still-- nothing. Like a moron, me believing him, and him being Duke and being untrustworthy, I should have seen this coming. But no. Like a moron I avoided the clubhouse because the Old Ladies don’t spend much time at the clubhouse. It seemed like the right thing to do, if I was going to take myself off the market. And even though I knew it was going to hurt when he eventually got tired of me, I set myself up for the prospect of spending more time in Duke’s bed, and maybe even a little time on the back of his bike. But he never showed up and now I’m left with a bad case of embarrassment.
I make the drive through the straight-up blue collar residential side of town and into downtown in less time than I’d like. I’ve tried to consider the best course of action in explaining my continual disappearances to my boss, but so far, I’ve got nothing. It’s not easy having to apologize for your fuck ups again and again.
Pulling up to Universal Ground, I check my red lipstick in the rear view mirror, gather up my purse, and pull my tits up high as I can in my bra. Downtown is pretty much dead today, which doesn’t bode well for the next few hours. With my purse over one shoulder and my long blonde hair pulled over the other, I pull open the heavy glass and wood door to the front of Universal Grounds. Inside, the air conditioning is on at a lower than comfortable temperature— all a ruse to encourage patrons to dri
nk more overpriced coffee— and the place is spotless. Courtesy of the two patrons inside and my co-worker Mindy, there’s light chatter being thrown around keeping the shop from sinking into a dead silence.
Leaning over the counter with a rag in hand, Mindy nods her head full of strawberry blonde curls toward the back room. She knows exactly why I’m here because she’s the one who was cool enough to cover for me this morning when the principal of Jeremy’s high school called to ask me to come pick him up. Mindy’s cool and totally anti-Forsaken, so I’m thinking we might be able to be friends which is totally up my alley at this point. But then she’s also kind of a prude, so I don’t know what we’d even do if we did hang out.
“Thanks, Min,” I say, crossing the shop and squeezing behind the counter on my way to the office that’s in the back. I blow out a few heavy breaths and psyche myself up for the conversation, but don’t have much time. As I round the corner, I see the door to the office is open. Universal Ground’s owner, Eileen, is at her computer, typing furiously. I give a soft knock on the door frame before stepping into the small office. It’s more of a broom closet, really, but it serves its purpose.
Eileen looks up, her natural gray hair is pulled back in a low ponytail and she wears a sad smile on her face. She waves me in and I close the door behind me. I don’t even have to ask. We’ve been here before.
“Nicole,” she says as pleasantly as her mood will allow. “I assume you’re here to talk about why you left your shift early?”
Inwardly, I cringe. Setting myself in the chair across the desk from her, I nod my head and say, “Yes.” She waits as I collect my thoughts to present the most compelling argument for not writing me up.
“Principal Beck called, asking me for an immediate meeting and to pick Jeremy up for the day,” I say, figuring she’ll find out eventually. It’s near impossible to keep anything a secret in this town, and it really doesn’t help that Eileen’s youngest son is in the same grade as Jeremy. She’d likely find out by dinnertime even if I didn’t tell her.
Thoughtfully, she nods her head and leans back in her chair. She’s dressed in her usual attire— clean cut khakis and a colorful polo shirt. My eyes dip down to my ripped jeans and tight blank tank for only a moment before I stop myself from comparing us any further. She’s the epitome of class in a soccer mom uniform, while I’m… not. She’s always been good to me which is one of the reasons I hate ditching out on her so often.
“I’m sympathetic to your family situation, Nicole. I understand that occasionally things will come up when you care for a child. I’m not interested in making you feel any worse than you already do, but we need to figure out a way to limit the number of times you have to run off for a family emergency.”
“It won’t happen again,” I blurt out, knowing it’s a lie. Eileen knows it, too. I always tell her it won’t happen again, but then it does. Jeremy hits some kid in the hallway, or he’s been caught cheating on a test, or even worse, he’s at the police station for truancy. It’s one thing after another and no matter how hard I try to keep him in check, it’s useless.
“Okay. Let’s let Mindy finish out this shift. You can resume the rest of the week as scheduled,” she says in a kind voice. I mumble an incoherent “thanks” and stand from my chair and slink out the door. I’d thought I would ask if I could finish my hours this afternoon, but it doesn’t seem like a good idea to push it now, especially since she’s made up her mind about it already. Sympathetic or not, she kept the conversation short and to the point. Plus, I’m not in any position to be asking for favors right now.
Heading out of the backroom, I run into Mindy as she’s turning the corner. With a perky smile on her face, her eyes widen, and she gives a giggle-laugh. Between my boss, the soccer mom, and Mindy, our resident Barbie doll, I’m ready to just throw in the towel. Mindy ducks around me, mumbling something that has the words “silly” and “goose” in it. I try to ignore her despite the fact that her quirks are really fucking cute. What grown woman actually calls herself a silly goose-- Mindy, that’s who. I sort of envy her. Anyone who says shit like silly goose can’t be all that fucked in the head.
I’m almost to the door when the bell chimes and it door swings open. A man of average height and build stands in the doorway looking around. I can barely see his face, but I already know who it is: Darren Jennings. We used to date back in high school, and things had gotten pretty serious until it all went to hell. He eventually upgraded to some chick I didn’t really know, but I felt bad for her all the same. He’s got a little scruff on his face and a ball cap pulled over his brown hair. For just a second, I freeze. I can practically feel my face paling. Before I can duck around, recognition covers his face and he smiles at me. It’s never been an evil smile. It’s pleasant in that unsuspecting way.
“Nicole,” he says. “It’s been a while.” Checking out his khakis and polo shirt, I can’t see much change from high school.
Acting surprised, I say, “Darren Jennings?” as if I hadn’t already made the connection in my head. He swoops down and wraps his arms around my torso, pulling me into what probably looks like a friendly hug. My lungs feel like they’re shrinking down to nothing as a swell of panic overtakes me. I stay perfectly still and wait for it to end. I pause, then try to hug back, but my right arm is crushed between our bodies. I pat his back softly with my left and hope he lets go any second. I hate people who are huggers. It’s like they have zero sense of boundaries. And Darren has always been a hands-on kind of guy.
“How have you been?” he pulls back, holds me at arm’s length, and asks with a huge smile on his face. It’s a challenge to stop myself from telling him that I feel like puking all over his loafers because he’s touched me. I want to tell him that despite whatever was fucked up in my life before this moment, that shit just got a whole hell of a lot worse. I really just want to gouge his eyes out.
“Listen, I gotta go,” I say, refusing to have this conversation with him. I mean, if I tell the truth, it’s a pretty gloomy story-- and it’s half his fault-- and I’m not about to go down that road with him. Last time it didn’t end well. He narrows his eyes slightly at my response.
“So, I just graduated from USC,” he says like I’ve forgotten our long-lost plans or something. Darren was always supposed to go to the University of Southern California, as he did. He’s a legacy, meaning his dad graduated from there, and now he has too. I wasn’t ever going to get into USC, but I was shooting for a school nearby there. But that was before everything fell apart and I decided that I’d rather rot in this place than to spend anymore time in his presence than absolutely necessary.
I try to offer my congratulations as he continues. “I’m back home for the summer. We should hang out. We have a lot to catch up on.” The mere thought of hanging out with Darren turns my legs into Jell-O.
“I’ve just been really busy,” I say in an attempt to end the conversation without really pissing him off, not that there’s a formula for keeping him calm or anything.
“You were wild back then,” he says, a gleam of mischief in his eyes. It almost makes me sick.
“She’s wild now,” a deep, masculine voice sounds from behind me. I practically jump in place at the intrusion. Darren’s eyes jump from mine over my shoulder to the man behind me. Turning around, I see the person I least expect standing in Universal Grounds: Diesel. He’s tall and thick in every way imaginable; a little more portly than most of the club members, but he wears it well. His shaved head has a short black buzz growing in and he’s scowling at Darren like he’s a piece of shit that dared make its way to the bottom of his shoe. He may be a serious bad-ass, but I’ve always had a soft spot for Diesel.
Living in a small town like Fort Bragg, California, with a local motorcycle club like we have-- the Forsaken Motorcycle Club-- you’re either their friend or their enemy. There is absolutely no in-between, especially if you’re like me and you’re the daughter of one of their incarcerated members. It’s wise to make good wi
th the club, and for lack of a better social scene, I’ve made real good with the club.
“Hey,” I say. Inside, I’m screaming at him to leave. Club members showing up at my work-- for the first time in as long as I can remember-- is not a good thing. I don’t care that it’s Diesel and we’re on good terms. I guess I can at least breathe a sigh of relief that it’s not Duke.
But today is not the day to show up at my work-- of all days. Eileen is as straight-laced as they come, and while she knows my dad’s Forsaken, it’s not something she’s keen on acknowledging. Knowing that mouthing off to Diesel won’t end well, I just bite my tongue and give him a pleasant smile while taking a few steps in his direction.
Diesel’s never done me wrong no matter how many times we’ve hooked up, but I’m not stupid enough to think he’d treat me any better than he did Julie if I start shit with him. “You want some coffee?” I ask, hitching a thumb toward the espresso machine. God, please tell me this man just stopped in for coffee.
Heavy boots clunk against the hardwood floor behind Diesel and a large, familiar form comes into view despite being partially obstructed by Diesel’s massive body. Wearing blue jeans, a black wife beater, and his leather cut, Duke strides up beside Diesel and place his hands on his hips. It’s the first time I’ve seen him in about two months-- ever since he claimed me when we hooked up. He looks damn good despite my frustration, and no matter how much I hate myself for it, I can’t help but let my eyes travel down to his hips where his hands rest. Those hips can perform magic tricks that would make performers in Vegas jealous.
“Where in the hell have you been?” he asks, irritation evident in his voice. It only takes a moment for my temper to rise, making me see red. He’s fucking joking, right?
Chapter 2
“What?” I snap. I ball my hands into fists at my side as my blood pressure shoots through the roof. He knows the way this stuff normally works—hell, his club fucking invented how this works—so it’s not like he can play stupid. Two months and not a damn word and now this? The embarrassment I felt only grew as time went on and I hadn’t heard from him. I went from feeling a little too dreamy about everything to feeling a little ridiculous to eventually feeling like a stupid piece of trash. We could have fucked and left it at that, but no.
