“What are you freaking doing?” she giggled.
I turned my head and smiled, “Trying to imagine myself with tits and a little ass.”
“Your tits are perfect, and you have a cute little ass.”
“I look like a boy,” I sighed.
“A hot fucking boy,” she said as she reached over my shoulder for the blow dryer.
“So I do. I look like a boy, don’t I?”
“No,” she said as she started drying her hair.
“Why’d you say it?” I asked as I stared into the mirror and twisted my body so my ass faced the mirror.
It’s helpless. I have no ass.
She shrugged and continued to dry her hair. I sighed and walked out of the bathroom and back to the desk. Frustrated, I lowered myself into the chair and stared at the black computer screen. Convinced I’d graduate from college, move to Wichita, and remain a flat assed and titless single woman for the rest of my life, I silently pouted at the thought of it all.
“What was that?” Sloan hollered over the sound of the hair dryer.
I blinked my eyes and looked around the room, “What was what?”
“Sounded like someone knocked on the door,” she shouted over the sound of the hairdryer.
“I didn’t hear anything,” I responded as I swiveled the chair toward the door.
Knock, knock, knock.
“Holy shit, someone’s here,” I said as I jumped from the chair and ran to the door.
Having someone come over probably wasn’t a big deal to the majority of the population of the free world, but to Sloan and me, it was a huge deal. In the two years we lived together, we’d had a total of two visitors that I could recall. One knocked on the wrong apartment door, and the other was pushing bibles and religion.
I bounced to the door and looked through the peephole.
Holy shit!
AXTON
After finding out my point of contact could speak English not very well, I learned every member of the club spoke Spanish not at all. A quick inventory of the Ol’ Ladies produced not one single Spanish speaking person. Having the ability to effectively communicate while trying to sell 100 AK-47’s to a first time customer was instrumental to the success of the sale. Frustrated, and not willing to lose a deal due to the incompetence of the club, I opted to find someone who did speak Spanish; someone who would be willing to go to a simple drop-off site and watch Otis and me sell a few guns to a Mexican street gang. The only drawback was it had to be someone I could trust, and I didn’t trust anyone outside the club.
Knowing if this deal fell apart, I was risking the life of one of the strongest members of the club, I decided to go beyond the boundaries of what I would normally do, and consider the help of an outsider. After all, the deal we were doing was legal and legitimate. Including an outsider in the transaction didn’t expose the club to any real risk. The Sureños may not have legal intentions with the weapons after they receive them from the club, but that was none of my or anyone else’s business.
A Google search confirmed a degree in Criminal Justice required a foreign language class, and my guess was Avery’s choice would have been Spanish. Contrary to my typical beliefs and behaviors, the club was asked, and they voted in favor of her being my Spanish speaking assistant. It was further agreed Otis and I would be the two members to do the deal with the Sureños. Otis’ size alone would be intimidating to a bunch of short Mexicans, which should minimize the potential for anyone trying anything stupid. If she agreed, Avery could simply stand on the side, look pretty, and tell me what the little fuckers were really saying. In my opinion, with Otis and Avery participating in the transaction, there was little risk to the club that anything could go wrong with the deal.
We would have brains, brawn, and the ability to communicate clearly.
After much thought and a long mental battle with myself about the inclusion of an outsider in what I believed to be club business, I fully accepted the decision the club had already made, and began my journey to find Avery. Frank provided me with Avery’s apartment number, and I rode there to discuss matters with her. Even though it was settled with the club, in my mind it was still rather undecided. As she opened the door, the expression on her face made her level of surprise quite clear.
“Got a minute?” I asked.
She stood wide eyed with her mouth agape, “Yeah, come in.”
Still standing in the center of the doorway, she stared. I motioned for her to move so I could step into the house, “You’re going to need to step aside if you want me to come in.”
“Uhhm. How’d you find me?” she stammered.
“I’m resourceful. I told you that,” I responded jokingly.
“So, you come by to give me that ride?” she asked as she flopped down on the couch.
The apartment was much smaller than small. Although I hadn’t been in the bedrooms, I could see in the doorway of each room. The apartment was approximately six hundred square feet from what I could tell, roughly twenty feet wide and thirty feet deep. Two people living in it was one person too many. A small desk at one side, a bathroom on the opposite wall, a couch, and two chairs were the extent of the furnishings. I sat in the chair beside the couch and turned to face Avery.
“Not exactly,” I sighed as the bathroom door opened.
“Hey,” Sloan breathed as she walked by.
“How’s it going, Sloan?” I responded over my shoulder, somewhat shocked she was at the apartment.
She was dressed in sweats that were too small and a tee shirt that did a half-assed job of covering her torso. Her stomach was exposed, and it was apparent she couldn’t pull the shirt down any further. I’d seen a lot of women in my days around the fellas who had big tits, but sitting this close to Sloan and actually seeing her, I would have to admit her tits were the biggest I had ever seen. Half embarrassed by her appearance, I quickly turned toward Avery.
“So, what the fuck?” Avery shrugged.
I sat silently and looked around the room. I hadn’t planned on Sloan being at Avery’s house and she certainly wasn’t part of the equation. I’ve never been a paranoid man, and I wouldn’t consider myself a nervous person, but I was always safe; erring on the side of caution. I reached down, pulled the rubber band to the point of breaking it, and released it.
Snap!
I stared blankly at my wrist as I snapped it three more times equally as hard. Now feeling as if I could sense my heart beating in my inflamed wrist, I looked up at Avery.
“You got any glasses? Like sunglasses?” I asked.
God damn it Axton.
She looked confused, “Yeah, why?”
“Grab ‘em. We’re going for a ride,” I said as I stood.
It’s just a ride Axton, nothing more.
You’re using her for a mouthpiece on a gun deal, that’s it.
“Seriously?” she squealed as she bounced up from the couch.
I looked around the apartment. Sloan stood in the doorway of the bedroom, looking in the mirror. She was all of ten feet away.
I tilted my head toward the door, “Yeah, grab ‘em. Let’s get out of here.”
“Sloan, I’m going with Axton on his bike,” Avery hollered across the tiny apartment.
“Okay,” Sloan responded slowly, stretching the word along for a good five seconds.
Sloan peered around the frame of the door and gave a half-assed grin. As Avery grabbed her purse, she pulled out her glasses and put them on. She was wearing jean shorts that barely cupped the bottom of her ass cheeks and a tight tee shirt. I glanced down at her feet.
Sneakers.
I smiled and reached for the door handle, “Ready?”
“Uh huh,” she smiled.
“Alright, listen up. There’s a few rules you’ll have to follow,” I said as I opened the door.
As she stepped into the doorway, she stopped, pulled off the sunglasses, and stared into my eyes. Now sharing the space in the opening of the door, she stood mere inches from me
. For the first time, I realized just how tall she was. Our noses not more than an inch apart, we stood in the doorway, our eyes locked. As a light breeze blew, I caught the faint smell of her perfume; a very light floral scent.
God damn she smells good.
“You tell me what to do, and I’ll do it. It’s that simple,” she said without expression.
I pursed my lips and narrowed my gaze, “That’s a bold statement, you better be careful, little girl.”
She stood with her sunglasses dangling from her fingertips, still shoehorned into the small opening of the doorway. I stood with my back against the frame of the door, refusing to be the one who moved out of the way first. She blinked her eyes and tilted her head slightly.
She smiled a shitty little flirtatious smile, “Think about that. Whatever you say, I’ll do it. Use your imagination, Axton. I sure am.”
I stood and continued to stare at her. Thoughts of shoving her against the wall, pulling her shorts down around her ankles, and fucking her long-legged little ass while she still wore her sneakers began to fill my mind. I sensed my cock beginning to swell at the thought of her doing whatever I told her. The fellas from the poker run in Wichita were spot on. She was a little firecracker, and she seemed to know exactly what to do to push my buttons. I had no business with this cute little bitch on the back of my bike, but I had no other alternative. For the sake of the club, this gun deal had to happen. As I felt the fabric of my jeans beginning to stretch from my overly active imagination, I shook my head and stepped out of the doorway.
As I turned and walked to the stairs, she immediately followed behind me. I pressed my hand against my jeans, attempting to force my cock to relax and become a little less noticeable before we got to the motorcycle. As we reached the bottom landing, I turned toward the bike and pushed against my still rigid dick with the heel of my palm and kept my back to Avery.
Generally speaking, I was able to keep my mind focused and prevent my cock from swelling without my approval. Actually, in the last fifteen years, I have had quite the opposite problem; focusing enough to get hard was proving to be difficult. Standing with my back to Avery and pressing down on my slowly rising cock was further proof I had very little control over my mind and what subconscious inner thoughts I had of fucking her. I had no business being in a relationship with a woman, and doing so was still the furthest thing from my mind, but bending her over and fucking her senseless was becoming more and more of a full-fledged desire than in inner thought. I felt like I was a pubescent teen again.
“Is there a problem?” she asked.
Fuck it, just hop on the bike Slice. She won’t notice.
I turned, threw my leg over the bike, and looked down at my rigid but not quite as noticeable cock. I propped my feet up on the pegs and bend my knees a little to provide some relief.
I turned slightly and pointed to the rear passenger pegs, “Nope. Get on, and put your feet on those pegs.”
“Keep your bare legs away from the exhaust. It’ll burn you to the bone,” I said as I motioned toward the two exhaust pipes.
“Just relax, and don’t flop around. Wrap your arms around my waist and hold on until you’re comfortable. And leave the glasses on, it’s a requirement and it’ll keep bugs out of your eyes. And when you get on, don’t drag your shoe over the fender. It ain’t scratched now, and I don’t want the motherfucker any different when we’re done,” I said over my shoulder.
“Easy schmeezy,” she grinned as she stretched her long leg over the bike.
As she wrapped her arms around me and pressed her inner thighs against the sides of my ass, the heart beat in my pants provided me a little reminder of the fact my outward intentions and my inner mind were worlds apart.
Worlds apart.
AVERY
I had no idea why Axton really came by and picked me up, and I didn’t care. Sloan was right; being on the bike was like riding a huge vibrator. I was in some strange state of ecstatic heaven, and we were flying down the road toward who knows where. Nothing I had done to date could compare to riding on the motorcycle. The fact I was on it with Axton made it immeasurably better.
“You alright” he asked over his shoulder as we slowed down for a stop sign.
I rested my chin on his shoulder and breathed into his ear, “Yeah, I’m perfect.”
“So where’s your favorite place to relax” he asked.
I wondered why he would ask such a thing. Maybe he wanted to talk or get to know me a little more. I really didn’t want him to stop riding the motorcycle. Not ever. I was feeling a strange sense of freedom as we rolled down the road; it was as if absolutely nothing else mattered. There were no worries of graduation, no inconsiderate parents, and no feelings of inadequacy about my boyish body. As the road rushed upon us, there was nothing between me and the entire earth except the wind which hadn’t hit my face yet. Since I was a child, I’ve dreamed of flying like a bird, and now I knew what it was like; because I was doing it. I wanted to throw my hands in the air and scream, but I didn’t dare.
“The park where you come into town,” I responded.
He nodded his head slightly and twisted the throttle. I pressed my thighs into his, holding on tighter as he accelerated. I would absolutely love being a biker bitch. I closed my eyes and smiled.
What a rush.
As he slowed down and turned into the park, I exhaled. I felt as if I’d been holding my breath for the entire ride, but I knew I hadn’t. Excited for what had happened, and disappointed we were stopping, I began to feel excited about sitting with Axton in my favorite place. Without a doubt, at minimum, he’d have to give me a ride home; so this wasn’t over yet. He pulled into a parking spot beside a picnic table, turned the bike to face outward, and stopped. He switched off the engine and told me to get off. I carefully lifted my leg over the rear fender, being careful not to drag my foot over it. I didn’t want to give him any reason not to want to do this again. As I stood beside motorcycle, I saw it and Axton in an entirely different light. Rightfully so or not, I felt as if I had become a part of it all.
The experience.
Being a biker.
Ten minutes, and I was transformed.
He kicked down the stand and got off the bike. He looked at me, and smiled his little smirk of a smile, “You enjoy it?”
It was difficult to explain. I fucking loved it. I never wanted to ride in a car again. I assumed he knew and would completely understand, but I didn’t want to babble like my normal self. I inhaled a shallow breath, exhaled half of it, and responded as best I could, considering my level of excitement.
“Saying I enjoyed it doesn’t do the experience any justice,” I said as I admired the motorcycle.
“Good, it’d be disappointing if you hated it.”
I shifted my eyes toward Axton and smiled, “So what’s up?”
His bicep flexed as he reached for his rubber band and stretched it tight, “We need to talk.”
I took the few steps to the picnic table and sat down. Standing and staring at Axton was nice, but standing in front of me, he was a little intimidating. Sitting down was better. I wondered what he wanted to talk about, or what I might have done to cause him to be disappointed with me. Certainly if he was disappointed, he wouldn’t have picked me up and taken me for a ride. As he walked around the bike and to the table, I watched his sexy stride as if hypnotized. He stopped a few feet in front of the table and looked down at me as he removed his sunglasses.
“I’m gonna cut right to it. We need to have a serious talk. I need something from you. I’ll explain what I need, and then you can give me your thoughts. Sound good?” he asked.
I nodded my head eagerly.
As a little girl, whenever my parents said we needed to have a talk, I knew it was something serious. Whether or not it was serious to me, they always believed it to be. Those types of talks, as a kid, always seemed to make me feel uneasy. Immediately prior to the talk, and during, I felt as if my stomach was full of butterf
lies. I spent the entire time as I waited for the talk wondering what the subject was going to be, or what mistake I had made in trying to live my life. Feeling uneasy and nervous until the talk was over, my mind would become an overflowing mess of ideas on what the topic might be. As he stood over me, I felt as if I was a little girl again.
He crossed his arms and studied me.
“Do you speak Spanish?” he asked blankly.
That’s weird.
I nodded my head, “Yeah.”
“Fluently?’ he asked.
Okay, that’s still weird.
I looked up at him and narrowed my eyes, “Very.”
“Alright. I’m going to tell you something. You may or may not be comfortable with what I say or what I ask of you, but no matter what, you can’t discuss this conversation with anyone. Ever. If you do…” he hesitated and reached toward my face.
His hand gripped my jaw lightly. As he lifted my chin and turned my face to meet his, he continued, “Well, you just can’t. Is that understood?”
Oh God, you just made me wet.
I nodded my head and swallowed the lump which had risen in my throat, “Yes, I understand.”
Having his hand on my face was exciting in itself. Hearing him tell me secrets made me immediately uncomfortable. The good kind of I’m excited uncomfortable. I crossed my legs, looked up, and smiled. For a short moment, he stared into my eyes.
I mean it Axton, please believe me.
He released my chin and began to pace back and forth, “Here’s what I’ve got. The club is selling a shipment of legal firearms to a group of Mexicans who can’t speak English very fucking good. Otis and I are doing the deal. I need you to be the interpreter. I may not need you to say anything at all, or I may. I have no way of knowing. But I’d rather have you there and not need you than be there, need you, and have nothing. And, nobody in the club speaks God damned Spanish. So, what do you say?”
Holy shit. Seriously?
A gun deal with a biker gang and a bunch of Mexicans who can’t speak English.
Fuck yeah I want to do it.
Making The Cut (Selective Sinners MC #1) Page 9
