Still, I can see the way she swallows. I notice the way she adjusts herself, so that she's straddling my lap. We both do.
“I don't want anything from you,” she tells me, and I listen because, no matter what I say, she's mine and I'm hers. That's it. It's woven into the tapestry of the universe. It's fuckin' fate. I touch her high cheekbone, run my fingers down that sculpted jaw to the point of her chin. When I kiss her, it's just a brush of flesh on flesh. I don't press it, don't force it. I beckon and she comes, willingly. That's all I want.
Her tongue crashes into mine and her fingers scramble at my back, digging into the fabric of my shirt and yanking it up and over, past our hungry mouths until she tosses it onto the floor in a soggy heap. Her hands run down my chest and caress my muscles, feeling them contract as she moves. I let her see the pleasure and the desire in my face, but I don't do a damn thing. I just wait, letting her set the pace because I know that's what she needs.
When she reaches down for my pants, I let out a groan of relief. She doesn't waste another second, sliding down along me until I'm pressed so firmly against her that it's hard to tell where one of us begins and one ends. Just as it should be.
Her arms come around my neck and our eyes lock. As she slides up and down my shaft, soaking me with her juices, squeezing me tight, I just watch her. I watch and I look and I listen. And when she comes, soaking me, drenching the floor with her essence, I wait. Only until after I'm sure she's at the edge again do I let myself go. And when I come, when I spill my seed inside of her, I know for damn fucking sure that somebody's going to pay for what they've done.
“I ain't going to apologize for it,” I say when we roll into the next town. Austin keeps throwing me nasty looks, and Beck is laughing his ass off. Wait till he actually finds out why Austin is looking at me like that. The teasing will never fucking stop. “What makes you think you're any better?” Austin just shakes his head at me, blonde hair dripping with sweat. It is hot as shit out here, that's for sure. I've never been to Fort Walton, but already my impression isn't the best. The whole place looks dirty and dusty, like none of the buildings have ever seen a drop of rain or the sidewalks a broom. Kind of freaks me out.
“I never said I was better, just that I don't get caught.” He tosses me a wink and kisses Amy full on the lips before helping her off the bike. If the asshole hasn't told her he loves her yet, I'm going to kick his ass. He has no idea how good he's got it. The girl he loves doesn't mind loving him, fell into it pretty easy if you ask me. Mine's … a bit more complicated.
Our plans are all helter-skelter, that's for sure. From what I gathered at this morning's meeting, the majority of the group is staying at the hotel while the rest of us meet up with Broken Dallas. They don't know we're here, so we're taking a pretty big risk with this. If they decide they don't want us here, things could get bad. Austin and Kimmi seem pretty confident. They've worked with them before, so I guess they know what they're doing, but I never trust other MCs. More often than not, if they can fuck you, they will.
“You want to stay at the hotel?” I ask Mireya, but she won't even look at me. She's ashamed, I think, and maybe a little embarrassed, too. Opening up to someone like that isn't easy, I know. I try not to smile at her since I know it'll only make things worse and shrug my shoulders, slipping a cigarette between my lips. “I hope we're bringing firepower,” I say around my smoke as I light up. “I'd rather not spend the rest of the weekend dead.”
“Thanks for the boost of confidence, Gaine,” Austin says, tucking Amy against his side before grabbing their bags and swinging them onto his opposite shoulder. “Now tell me, why isn't your ass staying behind?” I laugh as I watch him move away, all the while perfectly aware that Mireya's watching me, eyes boring into my back. If I didn't know better, I might just say she was interested.
“Because without me, there'd be nobody to make all the logical decisions.” I give Austin a grin and blow smoke his way before stepping away from my bike and trying to forget Mireya Sawyer for a moment. On the one hand, I feel kind of elated. I mean, it seems like she might be getting to a point where she's ready to accept me, but on the other, I feel like I'm smothering her, drowning her in my affections. It's a fucking nightmare.
“You want to tell me why Austin's raggin' on you so damn much?” Beck whispers as he comes up beside me. His green eyes are sparkling mischievously, so I'm guessing he has some idea. Best way to deal with Beck is to stay confident and not show a lick of shame. Second he senses any weakness, he's like a cougar on a doe's back.
“Some old as fuck couple with a bundle of sticks shoved up their asses filed a complaint on Mireya and me for fuckin' in the stairwell.” I shrug like it's no big deal and pull my cigarette from my mouth. Beck starts to laugh, rubbing at the red stubble on his jaw and shaking his head like he's never heard anything so funny.
“Hey, step off and fuck off,” Mireya growls, storming past him in a wave of sweet perfume and raven hair. She doesn't even look like the girl I made love to last night, the one who stared me straight in the face and let it all hang out. They could be sisters maybe, but there ain't nobody on this earth that would believe this woman sobbed in my arms last night. I take a drag, but I don't say anything. One wrong move now could ruin everything.
“You are such a stupid fuck,” Beck cackles as he catches sight of a young girl seated alone at one of the tables in the hotel restaurant. He licks his lips, but doesn't leave my side. Beck might be a slut, but at least he knows it's work first and screw later. “How the hell did you manage to get caught?” He chuckles again and keeps pace with me until he spots Melissa. I don't know what's going on between them, but when Beck's eyes catch on her, he changes. Now, I've been told that Beck Evans only has three emotions: horny, happy, and pissed the fuck off. But the way his green eyes dull and his hands clench at his sides, I'd have to bet that there's something else in there. Could be sadness maybe, or disappointment, I'm not sure. I let it go. I can only handle one problem at a time. After I figure out what's going on between Mireya and me, I'll see what I can do for Beck.
I wait in the lobby while everybody gets checked in, making sure I've got enough weapons to take down an army. No chances. I won't risk anything at this point in my life. I am this friggin' close to having the woman of my dreams and nobody is going to take that shit from me.
I sigh and lean against the wall, putting my cigarette out when I see I'm starting to gather glares, and watch as Christy follows Mireya like a lost puppy. She rode in on the back of her bike, clinging to her like her life damn near depended on it. And maybe it did. Mireya's new ride is a little worse for wear or at least it looks it. I don't have half the knowledge that woman does, so I guess I should hold my tongue, but when she starts the fucking thing, it's like a cannon going off. It's loud as shit and rattles like a bag of marbles. I get that she didn't want to be seen riding around in something better fit for a dollhouse than a highway, but why the clunker? Girl is a mystery to me.
“It'll be alright, you know?” Kimmi says, coming up from behind me and wrapping her fingers around my bicep with a sigh. She rests her head on my arm and I watch as her silver and green earrings sparkle in the afternoon sunshine.
“You broke up with Margot, didn't you?” I ask. Don't know why I even bother. It's blindingly obvious that she's not interested in the girl anymore. Kimmi goes through girlfriends the way some people go through toothbrushes. All's fine and dandy in the beginning, but after awhile, it just don't work the same anymore. Can't say I get it, but that's Kimmi Reynolds for you. I imagine that she's just never met anyone that makes her feel the way I do about Mireya.
She groans and turns her head, so that her forehead is resting against my sweaty skin. Kimmi and I are close; she's just one of the guys now. Better even because I get a woman's perspective on being with women. Pretty fucking handy.
“I just can't seem to get Basil out of my mind.”
“Mint,” I correct, thinking of that wisp of a girl that seem
ed to have stolen Kimmi's heart. Or at least she pretends she did. It was probably the closest she'd ever gotten to real love, but it wasn't quite there. If it was, she'd remember the woman's name. “But I don't think that's it. You've been checking out the new girl, everybody sees it.” Kimmi rolls her eyes and stands up, taking a quick glance around the room before reaching into her shirt and adjusting her tits, making sure they bulge up out the top of her shirt like muffins.
“Chrissy?” she asks, and I shake my head with a sigh, brushing back some dark hair that's fallen in my face. It's getting a little long in the front, probably time to get it cut again.
“It's Christy,” I correct, but Kimmi's already got her eye wandering, scoping out Triple M members first and then when they move away, focusing on some of the other guests. Nobody here seems that interested in our leather jackets or her skintight pants, our tats or our piercings. Doubt she's going to find anyone here to take back to her room.
“Whatever,” she says, reaching up to adjust her ruby red waves, sliding her fingers through the strands and fluffing out her helmet hair. “She's cute, but I don't know. Kind of young.”
“And virginal,” I add. She smiles with lips covered in pearl pink lipstick.
“And a little of that, too.” She watches Amy and Austin as they disappear into the elevator and grins. “I wouldn't be willing to take on such a massive task. I don't know about you, but it sounds like a lot of work to me. The sex later might be good, but the first couple dozen times are going to be shit.” Kimmi pulls a cigarette out from between her damn tits and lights up, tossing me a wink along with her words.
“I don't know,” I tell her honestly, glancing around the lobby and finding no trace of Mireya. Not that I'm looking for her specifically. Yeah, fucking right, Gaine. You stalker piece of shit. Get your head back on your shoulders and knock it the hell off. “I guess if you love somebody, you'll do anything for 'em, no matter how distasteful it might seem to you at first. When you've got them in your arms, you know you'll do whatever it takes to keep them there.” I shrug. “So I guess being a virgin doesn't seem like that big of a deal to me.” My friend laughs, her voice loud and raucous and echoing, bouncing around the quiet whisper of the room like thunder.
“You are a dying breed, my friend,” she says as she fingers the massive necklace hanging around her throat. It looks like a miniature chandelier to me, but then, what do I know about jewelry? Unconsciously, my hand travels to my back pocket, to the tiny sliver of metal wrapped in tissue. Fuck. I don't make any move to grab it. I'm the only one that knows about it at this point. If Kimmi were to find out, I'd never hear the end of it. And Beck? Not even an option.
What would my friends say if they found out I've been carrying a wedding ring around in my pocket for three friggin' years? Yep. That's right. I don't want to know.
“I don't envy you the pain it will cause.” Kimmi rises to her toes and presses a kiss to my cheek before sauntering back out the front doors and into the heat. I stay where I am, frozen, trapped in thoughts. I can't even imagine a scenario where Mireya says yes to a ring. It would never happen. When I told Austin a few weeks ago that I couldn't imagine her ever getting hitched, I was serious about it. When I told her I loved her before, I had this romantic chain of events all planned out in my head. Things didn't work out, and so now I'm stuck with this ring. I've thought about getting rid of it, sure, but it never feels right. How can I take my feelings and just flush 'em down the Goddamn toilet?
I sigh and push off the wall, wandering to the bank of windows in the lobby. The hotel is situated up a long driveway, perched on a hill overlooking the small, dusty city.
It's the perfect vantage point to see Broken Dallas coming.
Long before I hear them, I spot them down the road, moving across the pavement like they own the place. And they do, I suppose. They really fucking do.
“Shit.” I don't want to see where they're going. I know. That part's pretty damn obvious. What I don't know is what they're going to do when they get here.
I race across the lobby and hit the stairs, pausing at each floor with the hopes of finding Austin. Fortunately for me, this is a small town and an even smaller building. I find him quick, exiting the room he's going to share with Amy, a silly smile plastered across his lips. I don't blame him. He's head over heels, so I get it. And he's not a bad Pres, just an inexperienced one. He's used to robbing banks, and based on his track record, he's fucking good at it. But this is a whole different ballpark with a new set of rules and unforgiving consequences. Planning on coming here was fine, but we should've prepared more first. The fifteen minutes we've spent here might've cost us everything.
“Broken Dallas is en route,” I tell him before he can even ask. I watch as his blue eyes widen and his mouth twists into a slight scowl. “I'd say we have about five minutes, maybe less.” Austin nods and doesn't waste time with small talk, moving down the hallway and tapping on doors with his knuckles.
“Christ on a fucking cracker, this shit doesn't ever get easy, does it?” he asks me as we move into the stairwell and down, boots pounding against the linoleum floor. The chains on my pants ding against the railing as we spin down and around, hitting the lobby running with a small entourage in tow. People stare, but we don't pay them any attention. We don't have time to focus on them. Right now, all that's important is showing a strong presence and staying polite. It's true. Manners will get you everywhere with bikers. Trust me, I am one.
I check my pockets again, making sure my handgun is safely tucked inside the waistband of my jeans. I didn't used to carry it around. It was strictly for emergencies, always there in the back of my bike for when I needed it. Feels like everyday is an emergency now. If it's not Bested by Crows, it's something else, right?
Mireya meets up with me outside the doors, face paler than usual, red lips pursed tight. I imagine if I were to kiss them now, that I'd get my tongue bit off. She looks fierce as fuck today.
“How's it goin', lover?” I ask her as we move through the parking lot and pause near the entrance. We have to let them in here, there's no other choice, not if we want to stay on their good side. I take a deep breath and pray to God that Austin knows how to handle this. Beck looks ready to strangle someone with his bare hands and Kimmi's already loading a fresh magazine into her semi. Fantastic.
“Not so good. What the hell is going on here? I'm tired of dealing with this harassment bullshit. Can't we get a single freaking moment to ourselves?” She sounds like herself, but she still won't look at me. Good thing or bad? I don't get time to contemplate it.
“They'll be comin' around the mountain when they come,” Kimmi singsongs, but she doesn't look even the slightest bit frightened. A bit sweaty maybe and a whole lot of ticked off, but that's it. I'm glad she believes in Austin as much as she does or she'd have taken his place already. In all reality, she'd probably make better decisions than him, but she's not very diplomatic. All her good work would be undone the second she had a free moment to shoot off her mouth.
I pause next to my bike and wait. What else is there to do in this situation?
The rumble of engines starts low and grows louder quickly, winding up the road to the rusted gate that cuts across the front of the property. It's open, doesn't look like it's ever been closed actually, and it's only seconds before the group has pulled in front of us, all frowns and angry faces. There are no women here, only men. I wonder how much worse this shit is going to get before it gets better. My guess would be a whole hell of a lot.
“Good afternoon to you, gentlemen,” Austin says, tilting his blonde head to the side. He's all smiles and good ol' boy charm. His voice is laced with Southern hospitality and underwritten with brute strength. Perfect.
“Who the fuck are you?” asks one of the men. He's got on a pair of sunglasses and a leather jacket with full colors, including the 1% in the center, to the left of their emblem, that says he considers himself a gen-u-ine badass extraordinaire. The only bikers that put
that insignia on their shit think that they're outside the norm, that they're the special ones. Well fuck him and his sister. I keep my face neutral.
“Name's Austin Sparks. You remember me, don't you? We stopped through here five, maybe six, years ago to take care of some business. Kent was running the show then, but surely you remember Triple M?” He takes a step forward, but the man in the sunglasses doesn't smile. His silver beard looks like a tangle of spider webs in the wind, all wispy and shit. I hate him right off the bat. When his gaze moves straight past Austin and onto Kimmi, I get ready to fight. When he looks at Mireya next, I'm ready to kill.
I don't mind men being men or whatnot, but I don't like asshat motherfucker cock sucking pieces of misogynistic shit. The only man that hates a woman is a man who isn't even really a man at all. Only a nutless sack of crap would have a problem with a lady invading his space. If you know who you are and what you can do, you own it and you prove it. You don't put others down to make yourself feel better. Only the weakest of the weak need to go about proving themselves that way.
This guy, their President I guess, looks old, wise. He doesn't seem so bad at first glance, but I sense that things here are not exactly what they seem. Did they see us roll into town? Don't think so. Did somebody relay information back to them? Probably.
They knew we were coming; this was planned.
I just hope Austin knows it.
“You goin' to answer me or not?” my friend asks, letting his voice drop an octave. None of these sons of bitches have gotten off their bikes yet. Bad sign. Violence is a sure thing now. This is going to escalate in a split second. I'm not going to have time to react later. It's now or never.
Loving Me, Trusting You Page 12
