Clutch

by Drew Elyse

  She laughed, but it sounded a little twisted. “Hey, I didn’t drag him anywhere. He came along of his own accord.”

  From that point, our shopping trip went quite quickly. I think Slick focused entirely on my reminder that getting it done would get Denise back to the clubhouse where he could force her into a chair, which was exactly what he did.

  Neither Deni, nor I, were allowed to carry the groceries in. Slick grabbed what he could and then yelled out for someone to get the rest once we made it through the door. We headed into the kitchen with Slick and started sorting through the bags as they arrived.

  The kitchen in the clubhouse was an odd cross between an industrial kitchen you might find at a small restaurant or summer camp and the ordinary household type. All the equipment was larger, clearly purchased from a restaurant supply company. There was a six-burner range, an oven that could easily cook two whole Thanksgiving meals, and a fridge large enough to stock food for an army, yet there was also a small, round breakfast table in the corner made of light wood that sat six. Like most of the clubhouse, it was a less than elegant mix of utility and comfort.

  As soon as the task of getting the groceries inside was done, Slick focused on getting Deni off her feet. “Come on, baby. Let’s go sit down.”

  “Don’t push me, Slick,” Deni warned. “I have food to prep.”

  Slick’s face was tight, his jaw working subtly beneath his cheeks. If Denise didn’t get her ass in a chair soon, I was pretty sure we were going to have a complete blow-up on our hands. I knew Deni could handle it, but the stress seemed like more than a woman in the eighth month of her pregnancy should deal with.

  “What if we prep at the table instead of the counters?” I suggested. “You can sit and help out.”

  For a moment, she continued to stare down her beast of a husband. I wondered if she might reject the idea just for the sake of not giving in to his demands, but she relented. “Fine.”

  Slick opened his mouth, the look on his face making it clear he was going to protest and insist Deni relax completely, when Dad spoke up from across the kitchen. “Man, time to take the small victory. Trust me on this one.”

  He took Dad’s advice, obviously recognizing Deni was never going to give in more than she had. He gave a grunt of a sigh and went over to his wife. He had to bend over a bit to press his forehead to hers. I tried to pretend like I wasn’t eavesdropping as he spoke softly to her, but I totally was.

  “I worry about you, baby,” he said. From the corner of my eyes, I saw him run a hand along her swollen belly. “I worry about you both.”

  “I know,” Deni replied, her tone turning from acidic to saccharine in light of her big man going all soft, “but you have to trust me. I would never do anything to risk hurting our little girl.”

  When the kissing started, I decided actually giving them their moment was a good call. I walked over to Dad, and he threw an arm around my shoulders.

  “They’re a good match,” he said.

  “They’re always fighting,” I pointed out.

  “Yeah, but it’s from a good place. Takes a woman who can put someone in their place to be with a Disciple for the long haul. Your ma was like that. Had no problem tellin’ me when I was being an overbearing jackass. And I had no problem tellin’ her she was wearing down my last nerve. We ain’t normal men here, we can’t have any old chick at our side,” he explained wistfully.

  He had a point there. The Disciples were nothing like average guys on the street. They were rough, aggressive, unwilling to compromise, and never sugarcoated things. Maybe that ability to stand up to them was what made the difference between the average woman and an old lady.

  “You got that with Gauge from what I can see,” Dad continued. “You got your mom’s fire, don’t let him push you around. She’d have loved to see it.”

  The tightness that always overtook my lungs when he talked about Mom came. My memories of Mom were sketchy since I lost her so young, but I remember idolizing her, and I remember the absolute adoration Dad had for her. I knew he still missed her more than I could even comprehend.

  “She would have probably hated Nathaniel,” I said.

  Dad laughed, not even trying to contain it. “Baby girl, she’d have been trying to get you shot of that boy from the first time they met. You would’ve dumped him for no other reason than to get her off your case about it.”

  I wanted to laugh, but I suddenly felt ashamed. My dad hadn’t liked Nathaniel, so why did I stay? If Mom had been the one to tell me I was making a mistake, would that have made the difference? I had no idea. What I did know was I had wasted years of my life on someone I finally understood with absolute clarity had not been worth any of them. I was going to turn 27 with no direction, no work experience since I graduated, and no way to regain the time I lost.

  The wayward direction of my thoughts must have shown, because Dad called my name. “Don’t do that to yourself. Maybe that asshole was a mistake, but hell, mistakes are a part of life. You’re still living. You’ve still got way more years ahead of you than you gave him. Regret ain’t going to do nothing but hold you back.”

  He was right. He was so right. I wrapped my arms around him. “Love you, Dad.”

  With a kiss on my head, he said, “Love you, too, baby girl. It’s good having you here. Missed it.”

  “Hey, you gonna help me get all this food prepped for these assholes?” Denise called from the table.

  Right. It was time to get to work.

  Several hours later, with a stomach full of barbecue and beer, I was sitting on Gauge’s lap around the thrown together bonfire. I had forgotten how amazing summer barbecues were with the club. Most of the guys may have been absolutely useless in a kitchen, but they sure could man a grill or a smoker. That afternoon’s menu had consisted of ribs in the smoker, and chicken and corn on the grill. Just thinking about how much I ate had me groaning a little.

  “What’s up, babe?” Gauge inquired.

  “You better still be into me when I gain twenty pounds.” I paused as my stomach ached again. “Or more.”

  Gauge chuckled. The deep, warm sound and the movement of his solid chest against me had me cuddling even closer to him. “You gain what you want,” he said.

  I snorted. “You say that now.”

  “Babe, you get morbidly obese, we might have an issue, but that’s about your health more than anything. You gain a little weight, that shit doesn’t bother me at all. Hell, I’d like you to put on some. You look healthier in the pictures I’ve seen of you from a few years ago,” he explained.

  Sensing we were tiptoeing the line of another Nathaniel issue, I diffused things quickly. “Well, if you guys keep making food like that, gaining a bit will be a non-issue.”

  His arms gave me a slight squeeze in response. We both relaxed and listened to the guys talk about Sturgis. Gauge occasionally ran his hands along my arms, his calloused fingertips causing me to shiver. I had no idea whether he was consciously doing it or aware of the impact it was having on me, but the simple touch was bringing me to life. Every touch seemed to radiate between my legs. Slowly, sensually, I felt myself grow wet. My blood heated. I knew my cheeks were flushed. Eventually, I realized I was squirming in his lap. When Gauge leaned in and pressed a quick, tame kiss to my neck, I barely held in a moan.

  “Do you need me?” he whispered into my neck. He had known what he was doing, how crazy he was making me with all those other people around. Irritated, I chose not to answer. He pushed me further by asking, “If I touched you right now, you’d be wet, wouldn’t you?” I bit my lip to keep silent. “It wouldn’t take much to make you come, just a little pressure.” If he didn’t stop talking, I wouldn’t even need the pressure to take me there. “Say the word, darlin’, and I’ll take you inside and make it better.” Oh god. I tried to focus my attention back toward the story Jack was telling, the flames in front of us, anything but him teasing me right over the edge. “You know you want to give in. Just say it.”


  His hands gripped my hips, shifting me in his lap so the hard ridge of his erection rubbed against me between our jeans. That was it. My breaking point. “Yes.”

  Without another word, Gauge stood us both up and dragged me back toward the clubhouse. The catcall and laughter following us meant nothing to me. My soul focus was on Gauge and what he could do to my body.

  I led Cami through the clubhouse, my cock rock hard and crushed by the fabric of my jeans. I’d been about ready to give up on getting her to admit she wanted it and dragging her away from the bonfire anyway. Cami could redefine obstinate. That breathy little “yes” came just in time. I could do what I had planned next without the power play, but I knew she wanted to be taken. I’d known it from the first night we met. It was time to give her that while making another fantasy real.

  As we passed the hallway to my room, I was surprised she said nothing. I expected her to put up some kind of fight, to demand to know where I was taking her. In fact, I wanted it. Nothing got me going like fighting with her. Maybe I’d worked her up too much outside, taken her past the point of arguing.

  We made it out the front door and she yanked on my arm. “Where are we going?” she demanded.

  Ah, there it is.

  “Going for a ride, darlin’.”

  “But…”

  “Damn, did I rile you up so much you’re speechless? Might need to remember that trick.” Though, I really just wanted to ratchet up that temper.

  “Gauge, seriously, where the hell are we going? This really can’t wait until later?”

  “Gonna be too tired after I fuck you.”

  Her hip popped out slightly as her arms crossed, and I had to hold back my fucking grin.

  “The only thing you’re going to be tired from is some personal time with your right hand.”

  “That’s cold. You would really leave me hanging like that?”

  “Pot, meet kettle!” Yes. There was the anger. Was I a sick fuck for getting so hot when she yelled at me? Because, shit, it went straight to my cock every time.

  “Babe, get on the fuckin’ bike.”

  I saw her psychically dig her feet in. “No.”

  I got in close, smelling the faint scent of her perfume beneath the smoky odors of the barbecue and bonfire clinging to her. I wanted her out of those jeans, which looked like they were painted onto her ass, so I could add the smell of her arousal to the mix. Her muscles tightened further, like she was trying to keep from sinking into me. “What if I tell you I’m taking you to play out one of your fantasies?”

  “What do you know about my fantasies?”

  “I know one of them. You told me.”

  “I did no such thing!”

  As fun as it was to irritate her, what I had in mind would be infinitely more so. It was time to bring this to a close. “You’re right, you didn’t tell me, but you asked if I’d ever done it. We both know that wasn’t general curiosity. You were imagining what it would be like.” Recognition dawned in her eyes and her lips parted, making me harder. “You gonna get on the bike now?”

  She nodded silently and let me help her onto my Harley. My woman wrapped around me and my baby firing up beneath us was the best high I’d ever had. Cami shifted around behind me, and I hoped like hell the vibrations of the engine took her higher. I wanted her desperate by the time I got my hands on her.

  Riding with all of that in my head—and the pain in my balls—was harrowing to say the least. I knew exactly where I wanted to take her. It wasn’t far, but it would give us the privacy we needed. I doubted Cami was much of an exhibitionist, and there was no way in hell anything was stopping us once I got her where I wanted her.

  The farmland the club owned—thanks to our former president, Cap—was about 45 minutes out. Most of the nearby lots were empty and no one in those parts ventured on to other people’s land without permission. A couple of the guys were staying in a house on the property, but they were all still at the club and would end up crashing there. Still, I rode down another trail on the land leading toward a thicket of trees with a small fishing hole. No one would go out there at that hour.

  I pulled a bit off the path within the trees, cutting the engine and dropping the kickstand. I tapped Cami’s thigh twice to tell her to climb off and then scooted back on the seat a bit. Grabbing hold of her arm, I directed her back onto the bike so she was straddling me. I unclipped the helmet I made her wear and threw it to the ground. Her hair spilled out and she shook it a bit. It probably looked totally normal, but my lust-fueled brain saw that shit in slow motion like a bad 80s hair-metal video.

  Past the point of restraint, I buried my hands in the soft stuff and yanked her mouth to mine. She tasted like beer, honey, and mint. I wanted to taste it for the rest of my godforsaken life. I’d trade my ability to taste anything else to keep that sweetness on my tongue.

  Her hands slid under my cut, pushing it off my shoulders, and then moved beneath my shirt. I took both off. The evening had a slight chill, but I was scorching in my skin. Cami was with me. Her skin felt like pure fire as I ran my hands along it, getting her shirt and bra out of the way. I ran my lips and tongue over every bit of her I could reach. Even with how hot I was, she seemed to be burning me. We were our own little bonfire in the dark night.

  When her hands made it to my jeans, I cupped her jaw to pull her lips from mine. “Hop off, darlin’.”

  Once she had her feet, I stood to undo my belt and jeans, yanking them down enough to free my raging erection. Cami pulled her own off and I motioned her closer, so she was standing right against the side of the bike.

  “You ready for me?” I asked, cupping her bare pussy and loving the wetness seeping onto my hand. “Fuck yes, you are.”

  “Now, Gauge,” she demanded.

  “Come here,” I told her. She started to climb on as she had been, but I put a hand to her hip, stopping her. “Turn around, babe, face the front end.”

  She looked confused, but did as I said. She straddled the bike, sitting directly in front of me. I took a moment to wrap my arms around her, cupping the soft flesh of her chest, rolling her stiff nipples between my fingers until she was undulating. I imagined the wetness she was leaving on the leather seat as she ground against it and swore I would never clean the damn thing again.

  Unable to wait anymore, I ran my hands up her back and pushed her forward. Her chest settled along the fuel tank and she gripped the handlebars. I pulled on her hips until she was seated on my pelvis. I mindlessly thrust there for a moment, loving the feeling of my cock sliding between the slick lips of her pussy. Then I reached down to grip my desperate shaft and pushed inside of her.

  Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

  Tight. Wet. So fucking hot.

  No matter how many times I buried myself in her, she was going to keep blowing me away.

  I wasn’t gentle—hell, I didn’t even take her like I knew what the word “gentle” meant. I was absolutely brutal. I thrust faster, harder, deeper, and still wanted more. And Cami, sweet fuckin’ Cami, she took it all. If the wetness coating my shaft and balls was any indication, she loved the way I took her.

  Bless her for asking about sex on the bike. It wasn’t that the thought had never occurred to me, but we were only in that position because she’d asked about it, letting me know it made her hot. The sight of her, her bare ass against me, her back arched from the fuel tank of my baby, her head thrown upward as she moaned. Fuck, I’d picture her right there every time I sat on the thing from that moment on.

  I could feel her getting close, gripping me harder as her whole body tightened. When she went, there was no way I was holding back. I watched her hands squeezing the handlebars near their center, and inspiration struck.

  Shifting her slightly, hoping to line her up perfectly with the front edge of the seat, I reached around her, flipped the ignition switch, pulled in the clutch lever, and hit the button to fire her up. The bike grumbled to life beneath us, the engine purring and vibrating.