Toxic

by A. C. Bextor

  Well, I, for one, was done fuckin’ around.

  I heard the shouting from the main room doorway as soon as I took my last step from upstairs. Mace’s angry voice has always had an effect on me, and being the bastard ass that I am, it generally turned me on.

  When I rounded the corner and walked further into the room, I saw Ace’s back and heard Mace in front of him screeching and using profanity. Again, a fuckin’ turn on. Again, I’m a bastard – don’t care.

  ~~~~~

  “Stay away from Sadey, you little son of a bitch. I’m not kidding. She doesn’t need you lurking around in circles like a hungry shark.”

  Ace’s answer is what gets me from being turned on to crazy fuckin’ pissed. “Well, I’m not a shark, but I’m willing to test out her tu...”

  Once I make my way to them in quick strides, I unforgivingly, grab Ace by his shirt cuff and pull the mother fucker tight. Hell no. No one talks about my girls like that. Ever.

  “Don’t you dare finish that fuckin’ sentence if it’s relating to who I think it may be relating to. Now, apologize to Mace before I break your fuckin’ nose and make you lick up your blood from my boots, you little punk.”

  This fucker is a prospect. His position mirrors nothing more than peasant in this club. He’s not been patched in because he shows no self-control in the way of his mouth, and continues to act like a teenager starved for attention. I don’t like him, but he’s good with his hands and does what Hem tells him to do … usually.

  As I continue to squeeze his cuff, his face starts turning red, and if he doesn’t apologize soon he’s going to pass out. I wouldn’t mind seeing that. It would keep him quiet, for a bit at least.

  “Sorry, Mace. I was just playing and didn’t mean anything by it.”

  Once he gives that weak apology, I decide that spending some moments alone with Mace is worth more than cleaning his blood off my boot, so I drop him and let him go. This feels like letting a fish off the hook, throwing it back, and watching it swim out to the ocean again. Who’s the tuna now?

  As I turn my head to be sure Ace makes the right decision, and doesn’t do anything to further sour my mood, I’m hit directly in the chest. The scent of flowers hits me first, and when I turn back, I see Mace standing in front of me, looking up with those brown eyes, and she looks nervous.

  “Running from something, Mace?”

  “No, Shame. I’ve got Sadey in the car, and since Hem has decided she needs a reality check tonight, she’s in pieces, waiting for me to take her home. This is the one party she comes to, and Hem has to be ‘asshole Hem’ and screw it up for her. I will find him later, so if you want to give him a warning, feel free.”

  Wonderful. Sadey is in tears because of Hem. This isn’t new. Since Sadey discovered her love for Hem runs deeper than friendship and admiration, she’s been acting like a love sick fool.

  I can’t say anything to Mace right now. I know if I talk, I’m going to laugh, and she’s already pissed off, which is why I find this funny, and that would just add to her anger. Her face is red, and she’s shaking, but I don’t think Sadey is the reason for this. Mace is turned on.

  "Now, let's add on to that the fact that Ace has his sights set on my girl, and I don’t like it. He’s a creep and another male whore around here; he’s probably as infested with STDs as Cherry.”

  She’s not only turned on … she’s jealous. I’ve had relations with both Cherry and Bloom, and it’s never been a secret. I enjoy fucking, and they are easy and fun to be with. Apparently, though, Mace doesn’t appreciate it.

  Once Mace puts her hands on me, I soften. Just her hands to my body create a veil of peace within me and settles my soul.

  “Baby, she doesn’t belong here. Hem has been telling you and her both this same shit for years. She’s not built to withstand our lifestyle choices, and I’m sorry for her, but it is what it is. Now, Cherry, on the other hand…”

  In the midst of my teasing, she gets pissed. She’s not realizing her show of jealousy, and since this is hot as fuck to watch, I let her continue.

  “Oh, and by lifestyle choices you mean landing your cock in any willing woman that enters the room. Or unwilling, I should clarify that. It’s disgusting, Shame. It is revolting. What’s worse is, the women you are landing in are even more disgusting than you are for doing it. For hell's sake, have some pride or dignity in yourself and the club.”

  She pushes my core again, trying to get away.

  “Let me pass.”

  “No, babe.”

  “No?”

  “You heard me, Princess.”

  “First, don’t call me that. That’s an unwanted and unfunny joke. Hem was drunk and seriously just making shit up to hurt Greyson and piss me the hell off. Second, please move. I need to get Sadey home and cleaned up. Then, tomorrow I’m going to deal with Hem and his motives to hurt my best friend. Third, I wouldn’t want to keep you from Cherry. Poor girl is probably in your room, tied to your bed right now.”

  No. She’s not tied up in my bed. Although, there’s no guarantee she won’t be after this discussion because I’m stiff as hell under these leathers, and the picture of Mace being tied to my bed is so attractive I’m going to need to fuck … soon.

  “Last, Greyson will be worried when I don’t call him soon. He doesn’t deserve to wait or worry because the animals at the zoo are all acting out.”

  That fucking name. Greyson. I hate him. I hate knowing she’s with him. I hate him touching her. Sure as fuck hate the way his name sounds coming from her mouth. Jesus, I want the suit gone.

  I’m pissed. I grab her arms and pull her into me tightly, not letting her get away. I hear words from her mouth, and if I’m not mistaken, I could swear she just told me she can smell me.

  “You can smell me, Mace? What in the hell are you babbling about, woman?” This outta be good.

  “Yes, you smell like a woman you must have just devoured, cherries maybe?”

  Right. I could laugh out loud.

  “Liar. Explain better Princess, and this time with a little less bullshit. Can’t imagine you calling another woman’s smell, how did you say that? Oh yes. “Delicious.” Keep going.”

  “You smell like the Clubhouse, Shame. Cigarettes and beer. It reminds me of Hem when I was a kid, and he would visit. Good memories always smell delicious.”

  Fuck, she makes things so God damn crazy sometimes. She needs to know I’m in charge. I’m always in charge, so she doesn’t stand a chance. She can’t hide from me. She never could.

  “Liar. You never were good at storytelling, sweetheart. I will just accept the compliment and not make you uncomfortable anymore, although you, trembling in my arms, does something for me. I do have some things I want to say to you regarding your little tirade and counting episode though.”

  “Well, alright, big guy, shoot.”

  Nice touch, you brat.

  “Okay. First, I can call you what I want. I’ve been calling you what I want since you were just a kid. It’s my right, as your brother’s best friend and your lifelong friend, buddy, or whatever. Second, yes, please take Sadey home. She looks rough; women crying don’t have any reason to be here sniveling, especially during a biker party. I’m sure after a few Oreos, or whatever food remedy you chicks select for heartbreak, you'll throw in some name calling regarding the intended target, and she will survive.”

  I lean in close, for my benefit, not hers, and I feel the heat fleeing from her body. Her scent is creating chaos on my raging erection, which now stands at full attention.

  “Third, and you listen in close to this one, Princess, because I don’t want you to miss any of it.”

  Finally, a reaction from her. Her body moves into mine, and almost on her tip toes, she’s leaning up to me, looking directly into my eyes. Fuck, I want her.

  “A man has needs, Mace. We are made to fuck and fuck hard. That being said, if I want to fuck Cherry until the woman can’t walk, I will. If I want to make Cherry my old lady and grab
a piece of that daily, I will. Until you decide you want to take your turn on my cock, shut your mouth in regards to who I expel my needs into. You getting this entirely babe? Or you want me to continue explaining something that you already know is bound to happen? You and I are going to happen; that’s all I’m sayin’. You say the word, I will make your body feel things that your pretty boy at home has never even come close to making you feel.”

  I don’t care if I’ve laid it out bluntly. This is me. She knows how I am, and although she may not admit it, or know it yet, she likes me this way. But now, it’s time to give her something to think about.

  “Greyson doesn’t know what to do with you, but I do. I know exactly how I would do it, Mace. Given the chance, I would make you burn for me, baby.”

  I’ve never said anything this crass to my girl before. All these years, I’ve done whatever I could to withhold my true feelings about having her the way I want to have her, but my patience is wearing thin. Her tongue darts out in an effort to wet lips that have gone dry from remaining speechless and breathing heavily. I want that tongue against mine. I want to taste her.

  I have her attention; I need to finish this.

  “He’s a stuffed shirt, woman. Jesus, do you really see forever with that? Nine to five, shirt ironing, barefoot and pregnant, minivan driving; married to a golf tee wearing, self-professed genius? I love you Sweetheart, but I hate that life for you. You deserve…”

  Fuck, I’m running out of words. What does she deserve? She deserves someone that loves her and will protect her. She should be with someone that makes her laugh and knows her heart.

  “Finish it. Finish what you have to say. I want to hear you tell me what I deserve, because I thought that was my decision. You have never thought to say anything like that to me until right now, this day. Where is this coming from? Is this a bet with one of the brothers?”

  “Mace, I … damn it woman ... shit.” I pause. I can feel the scales of right and wrong teetering. “Jesus, okay. Fuck it.”

  In a moment of absolute disregard, I grab her face and neck and open her mouth with my tongue. She doesn’t fight this. Fuck, she doesn’t even flinch. Her tongue is warm and wet, and fuck if my cock doesn’t ache in my jeans, thinking about how her mouth would feel wrapped around it.

  She’s not stopping me. She’s not pushing me away. She’s as into this as I am. She starts to slow and without second guessing, she bites my bottom lip before going back for more.

  What the fuck have I done? We’re standing outside the club, with others watching, and I can’t control my own actions. Mace isn’t a whore, and I’m creating that look on her now. I’m a fuckin’ bastard. Had we been anywhere else but here, I would keep going, but no other brother or spectator gets to see her so aroused. That’s for me. She’s mine.

  “God damn it, Mace. I have to stop. You should be making me stop. Fuck.”

  This is Mace. She deserves more than the man handling I just gave her. God damn it.

  “Say something.”

  “Greyson, oh God Shame, Greyson. I have to call him; he will be worried if he hasn’t heard from me by now.”

  Say anything … but that. Hell no. “The fuck?”

  “I’m sorry, I don’t ... I just...”

  “Go away, Mace. Just take Sadey home and go running to call Greyson. I’m going inside, maybe Hem is through with Kegs and I can have a turn. Sometimes a little pussy variety is what is needed to forget that people aren’t always what you want or expect them to be.”

  Fuck. I just went from being rock hard and ready to take what is mine, to feeling completely alone in her presence. I’ve never felt that way while sharing space with her.

  I hate this.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  “She was breathing deeply, she forgot the cold, the weight of beings, the insane or static life, the long anguish of living or dying. After so many years running from fear, fleeing crazily, uselessly, she was finally coming to a halt. At the same time she seemed to be recovering her roots, and the sap rose anew in her body, which was no longer trembling.”

  -Albert Camus

  “Honor, where’s Hem?”

  “Waiting on your ass to get here. He’s told Mace you’re already here, brother. She was about to have a fuckin’ melt down, so he told her you were waiting in the Groom's room until the ceremony. Shame, I mean no disrespect here, and I think you know that, but where the fuck are you at? Guests are arriving. Guests, Shame!”

  “I’m at Peril, just goin’ up to grab some shit from my room, run through the shower, and then I’m on my way there. Be there in no more than thirty. Tell Hem I called, and tell him I’m all good.”

  “Oh, that fuckin’ easy. You’re just ‘all good.’ You’ve got everyone in this church about ready to shit bricks, man, but you’re just ‘all good’. How nice it would be, to be you right now. Do you not remember what Hem is like when he’s about to lose his shit?”

  “Motherfucker, you’re acting like a girl. Fuckin’ do what I tell you, and I will see you in thirty.”

  I hang up on him and smile to myself, knowing that when he and Kegs finally get married, once he convinces her of it, he will ride himself down memory lane, just as I did today.

  He’s such a bitch ass.

  As I walk into the room, I’m halted immediately by my surroundings. The room isn’t the same; it’s almost unrecognizable. I see the familiarity of its spirit. This is where Mace finally became mine. I had her heart for years, but this is where I took her heart, body, and soul - and never gave them back.

  ~~~~~

  “Be with me.”

  My heart just seized in my chest. Those words have stopped my movement completely. Emotions are racing to the surface at a pace that I can’t consider. She said it. My girl wants me; she wants us.

  Jesus Christ, I can’t fucking move.

  Mace is standing in front of me, and although she seems a bit nervous she’s not backing away. Those words were deliberate and definite.

  Mine.

  I’m not going to waste time. Walking to her, I grab her by the back of her neck. I feel her body shaking under my hold, and I know we’re about to cross an unimaginable boundary – one I know that I can’t come back from.

  Pulling her into my body so that I feel every inch of her, I take her mouth. Her body melts into mine without hesitation. My hands are trembling, and I don’t think I can get close enough to her. I’ve waited all my life to feel this … link to someone … to her.

  For the first time, it isn’t about sex, or friendship, or feeling less alone in this world. This is about a deep connection to someone’s soul. She’s merely touching me on the outside, but she’s moving me within. It’s gripping, terrifying, and my cards are on the table … all in.

  My hands are trembling, and my heart is racing. This isn’t a one night stand or a club whore. This is Mace. My Mace.

  She feels and tastes like so much more than I remember from that day just weeks ago; that memory feels so small in comparison. Jesus, her mouth is sweet, and her skin is soft. Pulling away from her, I reach for the bottom of her shirt and yank it over her head. I’m waiting for her to stop this, to change her mind, but she doesn’t. She’s letting me touch her, explore her, and God damn it, tonight she’s letting me have her.

  “Tell me yes, Mace. I need to hear you say it. Tell me you want this and I will give you what you want; what we want. You have to tell me, though, or I’m walking away because this changes us. It changes everything.”

  My voice is weak, and I admit to myself the fear I have that she will refuse me. I need her. My body craves her, and after this my heart can’t continue to watch her front a distance.

  Mace is mine. In one way or another, Mace Cash has always been mine.

  Without any hesitation in her voice, I hear her plea. “Make me yours, Shame. Really, make me yours. Don’t hold back, don’t second guess it - just be with me now. Please. I’m here with you because I want to be here. Don’t go gentle becaus
e you’re afraid to break me. Just take me with you and let me get lost in this.”

  Oh fuckin’ Christ, those words hold more meaning to me than Mace could ever know. Forever … she’s my forever.

  “Fuck, I want to be inside you, Mace. Say it again, tell me you want me. I want to hear it from you again and again. Tell me what you want me to do to you, baby.”

  I’m not moving until I hear the words I’m asking of her. If there’s a chance for her to change her mind before we start this, I need to give her this out. My heart can’t risk having her make a quick minded mistake. Once it’s done, it’s done, and she won’t ever have a chance to walk away from me again. No way would I let her.

  “Shame, have me. I want you, this, us. For whatever it is, I want this now. No regrets. Touch me. Make me feel loved, safe, and protected. I need you to do that.”

  Done. I don’t need further convincing. I see all of her. I know this face, these hands, and these eyes. Once my sweet little friend, then my beautiful girl, and now … mine. Gods’ perfect creation, meant only for me.

  Picking her up in my arms, I move her, signaling to wrap herself around my body. She’s looking into me, searching for answers that I finally have. This is us; it’s who we are – together after all these years.

  “God, baby, I love your face.”

  She looks away. I’m unsure if this is where she tells me this is a mistake, or if she’s as emotionally caught up in this as I am. “No, Mace, look at me. Eyes on me and do not look away. I want to watch you, to see your face, beautiful girl, as I feel you from the inside for the first time. You are so beautiful. You overwhelm me.”

  It’s true. Her body and mind together take me somewhere beyond this place – she’s freeing me by giving me her trust.

  Setting her down and pushing her against the door to my room, I give the lock a quick click to ensure we’re not disturbed.