by Gemma Weir
I hand a drink across the bar to a customer, wait till he leaves, and turn to Gus. “Manchester. It’s a big city like London, but no one’s ever heard of it.”
A knowing smile crosses his face, and he leans forward over the bar. “Young lady, I’ll have you know I know exactly where Manchester is. My late wife, Millie, and I spent a lot of time over in England. We stayed several times in a beautiful village not far from Manchester called Disley. Millie loved England. She’d have moved there, but we never got the chance.”
My eyes widen in surprise. “Gus, I grew up in Disley. Wow, that’s so weird. How on earth did I end up meeting someone in Texas who’s visited the town I grew up in?”
Gus sits at the bar and reminisces about his wife and their time in the UK. Smiling, I find myself happily chatting to my new friend and the closest link to home I’ve found since I landed in America.
“So, Miss Olivia, what brings you to Archer’s Creek?” Gus asks.
I scoff lightly. “I didn’t exactly plan to be in Archer’s Creek. My bus left without me, so I’m stranded here, at least until I figure out what I’m gonna do next. Especially now I have nowhere to stay.” My mouth drops open as my own words sink in. “Oh my God, I don’t have anywhere to stay.” Turning to Gus, I blurt out, “I was supposed to be staying on the bus with the band. But I’m here in this tiny town, and it’s seven at night and I don’t even know if there’s a hotel here.”
Gus reaches out and places a reassuring hand on my arm. “Darlin’, calm down. There isn’t a hotel, but there’s Miss Mimi’s guesthouse.”
“Is that local?”
“Yes, ma’am, just across the road. She’s a little odd, but it’s cheap and the rooms are clean.” Gus stands and shrugs on his jacket. “Well, Miss Olivia, it was a pleasure meeting you, and I thoroughly enjoyed your company. I’m sure I’ll see y’all again, but my dinner’s calling me.”
“Bye, Gus, it was lovely to meet you too.” He reminds me of my granddad, and I long to hug him to see if he smells like mint and soap.
My feet hurt, and I’m sweaty and ready for a shower. Two new waitresses arrived to work the rest of the shift, and I sigh in relief. Brandi crosses the bar towards me. Smiling widely, she looks unbelievably cool and fresh.
“You gonna stay at Miss Mimi’s?” she asks.
I nod. “That’s what I’m hoping, but I don’t even know if she has a room.”
“The old crone’s always got rooms.”
“Well then, yep, I’m gonna be at Miss Mimi’s.” I shrug.
She barrels into me and almost knocks me off my feet. Her arms wrap around me in a tight hug. “Okay, can you be ready in an hour and we’ll come get you?”
“Come get me. Why?”
Pulling her jacket on, she shouts over her shoulder as she leaves, “The party. See you in an hour.” I don’t have a chance to reply before the door swings shut behind her.
I leave the bar, cross the street, and head up the path to Miss Mimi’s. The guesthouse is gothic revival, and the door swings open as I raise my fist to knock.
“Welcome to Miss Mimi’s guesthouse. I’m Miss Mimi, how may I help you?” My eyes widen at the stereotypical southern belle in front of me. She’s wearing pearls and a woollen twinset. Her make-up is heavy, and her hair’s coiffured into a bizarre halo of backcombed perm.
I school my face into a normal expression and speak. “Ma’am, my name’s Olivia Townsend. I was told you might have a room I could rent.” The cloud of perfume that surrounds her almost chokes me, and I hold my breath as I wait. With a flourish, she ushers me in and down a corridor to a basic but clean room.
She holds the door open, and I walk past her and quickly glance around. “This is perfect, thank you.”
Miss Mimi smiles and clasps her hands together in front of her. “Now, Miss Olivia, I have a few rules that I’d ask you to abide by while you’re under my roof. These rooms are single sex only. I don’t allow any fornicating outside of marriage vows in my home. This is a God-fearing household, so I won’t accept my guests taking the Lord’s name in vain. Church on Sunday starts at 9.00 a.m., and we would be happy to make room for you in our pew. Breakfast is at 8.00 a.m., lunch at 12 noon and dinner at 6.30 p.m. Meals are extra, but I don’t mind having one more to cook for if you’d like to join us. Here are your keys. The front door is locked from 1.00 a.m. to 6.00 a.m., and I’d appreciate it if you were in your room by a reasonable hour.”
I nod politely, give her two nights’ rent as deposit, and she leaves.
Alone at last, I kick off my trainers and flop down onto the bed. It’s been a long day, and exhaustion washes over me.
My eyes drift closed and images of Echo flash into my mind.
His scent surrounding me.
His eyes locked on mine.
My breathing becomes shallow, and my nipples harden. My sex throbs as erotic thoughts of Echo’s tattooed hand creeping under the waistband of my shorts flash through my mind.
Hot and unsatisfied, I squirm against the cool cotton sheets. I fist the fabric beneath me and let my imagination take over. My fingers become his as they slide down my stomach and into my panties.
His fingers tease my sex, stroking along the sensitive skin. Wet and desperate, my back arches as his thick finger touches my swollen clit and circles it mercilessly. I pant as the pressure of an orgasm builds from my toes. His huge body cages me in, and I’m surrounded by him. Two fingers push deep inside me, and my orgasm splinters in an explosion of pleasure.
My eyes crash open.
My chest heaves.
My hand is still inside my shorts as I stare at Miss Mimi’s bland white ceiling.
Dragging myself off the bed, I pad with shaky legs into the bathroom. A shower cools my skin and washes away the remains of my orgasm. Once I’m dressed, I stand in front of the mirror and stare, taking in how my white dress clings to my body like a second skin. The hem skims my upper thighs, with the fabric dipping tantalisingly low in the back. Black leather ankle boots with a chunky heel emphasise my long legs, and my hair is a mass of untamed curls.
Simple yet sexy.
A knock at my door startles me, and opening it, I find a stern-looking Miss Mimi standing in the doorway. “I’m sorry to interrupt you, Miss Olivia, but Brandi and two of those heathens are asking for you. I’d be happy to call the sheriff to get rid of them.”
I laugh, assuming she’s joking, but her face hardens. “No, that’s fine. Brandi’s here for me. She’s going to show me around,” I say quickly.
Miss Mimi scoffs, her face twisting in disapproval. “Olivia, dear, those criminals are not someone a respectable young lady should be associating with. Their sinful behaviour is polluting our town. Spending time with them will only spread their disease into you, like the other disreputable women that associate with them.”
I pull in a sharp breath. “I’ll bear that in mind, Miss Mimi. I appreciate your concern, but if you’ll excuse me, Brandi is waiting for me.”
Holy fucking hell.
The door opens and Olivia emerges. My cock’s instantly hard. She’s wearing a tight white dress; her nipples are visibly pushing against the fabric, and fuck, I want to suck them into my mouth and bite them till she’s squirming and desperate.
My gaze drops from her tits down the length of her body. The dress is short enough to show off loads of her sexy fucking endless legs. Jesus H. Christ, I want to pull up that dress and wrap those boots around my waist while I fuck her.
Sleaze’s old lady squeals before she rushes at Olivia, wrapping her in a tight hug. Sleaze whistles through his teeth. “Would you look at that bitch. That bit of fresh pussy is gonna have the boys lining up to take turns.”
I see red. My hands clench into fists. “She’s not fucking club pussy, you asshole. None of those fucking bastards are gonna fucking touch her.”
I don’t know what it is about her, but this woman’s under my skin. She’s goddamn perfection, and instead of only wanting to fuck her, I want to pull her into my
arms and worship her. Sleaze looks shocked. Hell, I’ve fucking shocked myself. Pussy is pussy, and I’ve never had a problem passing bitches along to my brothers once I’m done with them.
But Olivia…
Hell. Fucking. No. She’s mine.
Mine. What the fuck?
I don’t claim bitches. I get my dick wet and then move on to the next.
But the thought of one of my brothers touching her makes me itch to claim her, possess her.
I need to stay way the hell away from her.
“Hello, Echo,” I say.
Echo’s leaning against a shiny black car. His jaw is clenched, and his hands are twisted into tight fists as anger and frustration pour from him. His eyes seem to blacken and smoulder as he turns his gaze to me, spearing me with furious intensity. I step back, shocked. His silent sneer sends waves of apprehension pulsing through me.
Brandi seems oblivious to the charged standoff Echo and I are engaged in. She hops in front of me, breaking the connection and pulling my attention to the guy standing beside Echo.
“Olivia, this is Sleaze,” she gushes.
His arm pulls her in close, and she nestles into his chest as he lifts his chin to me in greeting. “Olivia,” he says, his voice deep and gruff.
My fingers salute him in an awkward wave, and his mouth twitches to an amused half smile. “Hi,” I squeak.
Echo slaps the roof of his car. “Let’s roll. Party’s going without us.” Then he lowers himself into the sleek black leather seat, his glorious muscles flexing as he moves.
Climbing into the back, Brandi buzzes with excitement. “This is gonna be so much fun.”
I laugh, getting caught up in her enthusiasm. “Don’t you go to all of the club parties?”
Her smile changes to a grimace. “Some. Old ladies don’t really mix with the club whores. Some don’t come to the club at all except for the family days.” Brandi wiggles her hips, dancing in her seat, and I grab her wrist to draw her attention.
“Whores, like actual prostitutes?” I say with wide eyes.
She laughs. “No, just skanks that hang out at the clubhouse. Girls that just want to fuck a biker and don’t care which one.”
We slow down as we pull up to a high metal gate and a guy bends down, leaning against the car window. “Echo, you’re missing all the fun, brother.” He’s young, maybe nineteen or twenty, and when he glances into the back seat, he sees me and licks his lips. He lifts his eyebrows as his gaze drops to eye fuck my boobs. “I see you brought us a little bit of fun back with you. I wanna call dibs on that one. She’s one fine bitch.”
I don’t see Echo’s arm move until his fist’s wrapped around the guy’s shirt and he’s dragging him through the window and into the car.
“Daisy, I’ll cut out your fucking tongue if you ever speak like that about her again. You won’t think about her. Hell, if you ever touch her, I’ll fucking kill you. You get me?” Echo growls.
Daisy nods quickly, his eyes widening in fear. “Sorry, brother, I didn’t know she was yours.”
Echo drops Daisy’s shirt and pushes him backwards. “Open this fucking gate,” he snarls.
“Things just got interesting.” Sleaze chuckles softly.
We pull to a stop in front of a massive warehouse. The building is utilitarian and imposing against the black night sky. Music blares from heavy open metal doors, and people spill from inside, loitering in groups beside the fire pits that are dotted around. I’m grateful when Brandi hooks her arm through mine and leads me into the club.
The room is masked by a smoky haze, yet the scent of sex permeates the air. Half-naked women dance on the tables as horny men watch with hungry eyes and blatantly hard cocks. My gaze darts around the room before landing on a bald man. His head is thrown back in ecstasy, his fingers tangled into a blonde’s hair, controlling her movements, pushing and pulling while she sucks his dick.
My heart pounds in my chest with either disgust or desire, but I’m not sure which.
Moans of pleasure float across the room from a silver fox in a worn leather waistcoat. His hips thrust back and forth, pounding into a curvaceous woman, her body bent over the arm of a sofa. I can’t drag my eyes from the woman’s face. Screaming with orgasm, she’s basking in pleasure, completely uninhibited by her audience.
“It’s a lot to take in, isn’t it?” Brandi says. I nod, and her hold tightens on my arm. “Come on, doll. Let’s get a drink into you.”
We move further into the room, my hands shaking slightly from the adrenaline coursing through my veins. I feel eyes watching me. Looking over my shoulder, I search for Echo and his intense gaze, but he’s gone, and a heavy weight of uncertainty settles on my chest.
The guy behind the bar is a beautiful giant. His skin’s a warm caramel colour, and his high cheekbones are pronounced like a model’s. His bright, friendly smile dims as we reach him. “Brandi, girl, you can’t be here on a party night on your own. You know the rules.”
Brandi scowls and snaps out, “Smoke, I’m old enough to be your momma, so don’t you be telling me what I can and can’t do.”
Smoke rolls his eyes and shakes his head. “You’re barely five years older than me, so cut the bullshit. You know I’ve got to call Sleaze and tell him his woman’s here. Don’t make me do it again, Brandi, come on.”
Brandi throws her hands in the air and shouts, “Oh my God, Smoke, that happened once, years ago. Sleaze is here, so can we get drinks now?”
“I call bullshit. That man of yours likes your ass pinned to his lap. I don’t see him, so go home before you get us both in the shit,” Smoke snarls.
She smiles smugly as the crowd parts. Sleaze reaches us and slings his arm possessively around her. “Baby, Smoke’s refusing to serve me and Liv,” she purrs up at him.
Brandi peers around Sleaze’s huge body and pokes out her tongue at Smoke before turning back to snuggle into her man’s chest. Her face is so childlike and heartbroken, I cover my mouth to hide my grin.
“You refused to serve my old lady and her friend?” Sleaze growls.
Smoke visibly cowers against Sleaze’s anger. “I told her she couldn’t be here on her own, man.”
Sleaze kisses Brandi’s forehead, then turns to Smoke. “You think I’m stupid enough to let my hot-ass old lady come here alone?”
Smoke rubs his mouth with the back of his hand. “No, man, course not.”
Sleaze nods. “Now you show my old lady some respect and do your fucking job.”
Rising on her tiptoes, Brandi leans in and kisses Sleaze sweetly. “Thank you, baby.”
An unexpected wave of jealousy washes over me, and I look away. “Well hello, sweetheart.” Smoke’s voice purrs melodically, and his gaze roams my body as he checks me out. “What can I get you?”
“Beer, please,” I say, smiling.
He narrows his eyes into a seductive smoulder, his lip twitching with a confident smile. “Is that the only thing I can do for you, sweetheart?”
He’s so smooth, but his lovable rogue act isn’t really working for me, and I laugh at his obvious flirting. “Just the beer, please. I think I’m good for everything else.”
Amused by my blatant brush-off, he slaps the bar. “Offer’s always open, babe. I got loads of suggestions of things I can do for you… or to you.” He slides a beer towards me with a wink before walking away.
Brandi and I weave our way through the mass of bodies till we reach the makeshift dance floor. Music pulses through me, and the heavy bass guides my body. Head back, arms in the air, the rhythm consumes me and my inhibitions melt away.
Several tracks later, I pull my hair from my neck. Sweat runs down my heated skin, but my hips still sway to the music. The sensual beat of the song morphs into an energetic bounce, and Brandi and I laugh, twirling around, carefree and happy.
My dress is sticking to my damp skin, my hair’s a wild mess, and my feet throb. I motion to the bar, and Brandi nods, following me. Grabbing drinks, we move across the room to w
here Sleaze is sitting. His eyes track Brandi, and as soon as she’s within his grasp, he pulls her into his lap. Whispering into her ear and holding her close, the mountain of a man claims all of her attention.
I collapse onto a sofa and groan with pleasure. Stretching out my legs, I point my toes and wiggle my bruised feet. The sofa cushion next to me depresses, and I turn my head. The man is sitting too close, his presence crowding me. Shoulder-length, white-blond hair frames his angular, beautiful face, and piercing silver-grey eyes draw me in. An intense sense of fear has me edging away, my skin crawling at his overpowering energy. He watches as I try to move, angry eyes narrowing in displeasure.
I’m desperately trying to ignore her, but I can’t take my eyes off her. I’ve watched her laugh with Brandi and flirt with Smoke. I’ve watched the way her breasts push against the thin material of her dress and how her ass sways as she dances to the pounding music.
I’ve watched her, and so has every other horny fucking bastard in the room.
I’m jealous, and I hate it. I want her to be sitting on my lap; I want her dancing with me. Fuck, at this point, I just want to be close to her.
My dick’s pressed so hard against the zipper on my jeans, there’s an imprint on my cock. I’m a walking fucking hard-on.
I want every horny fucker who thinks she’s going home with him to know she belongs to me.
I need to claim her.
But she’s not mine.
I just need to fuck her.
I fight to convince myself that’s all I want, just to fuck her. Get her out of my mind and out of my system.
One night of her screaming my name and this desire, this need I have for her, will disappear and she’ll be just like the others. A passing fancy.
Puck sits down next to her. Too close to her. Crowding up on her.
He’s a sick motherfucker. He likes weird, fucked-up shit. The whores know what they’re getting into with him; hell, I think a couple of them even like it.
But not Livvy. He shouldn’t be near her.
I’m on my feet, walking towards her.
