Spike: Satan's Disciples MC
Page 7
“Sounds like you got lucky to me,” Spike said after a long moment, staring hard at the girl in front of him. “Your daddy never hit you, or worse. He still went to work, and you got to go to college.”
“I’m sorry my family isn’t as fucked up as yours clearly was,” Georgia fired back, standing in her anger, “but that doesn’t make me lucky. Not by a long shot. If anything, you’re in a better position than I am right now. Does that make you lucky?”
Spike stood up, towering over Georgia. His long, lean form cast a shadow across her, but she glared right back at him, refusing to look away. “My father didn’t punch the walls. He hit my mother and me. Sometimes so severely I couldn’t walk. Now do you feel lucky?” he asked her harshly.
Georgia felt a pit of guilt forming in her stomach.
“One day I came home from school and found that he had beaten her to death,” Spike said. “I was sixteen and there she was, lying in a pool of her own blood. I couldn’t even recognize her. But then I saw this, and I knew,” he held up a gold cross hanging from a thin matching chain necklace.
Georgia tried to look anywhere but at his dark green eyes, but Spike reached out and grabbed her chin, holding her still.
“Do you know what my father was doing when I found her, Georgia?” he asked. “He was watching the game on TV. So what I did was I went and got his shotgun, and I killed him right back. They gave me five years for a crime of passion, and because I was a minor. Do you feel lucky now? Because you should, Georgia. You’re very lucky,” Spike said, lowering his voice to a whisper.
Georgia took a step back, running into the liquor shelves behind her.
“You’re lucky that I’m a nice guy who wouldn’t teach you and your friend a lesson for coming in here tonight.” He stepped forward to trap Georgia between the shelves and his hard stomach.
Georgia panicked. She planted her hands squarely on his chest and gave a hard shove with all her might. Nothing happened.
Spike stepped back a moment later, freeing Georgia. She eyed him suspiciously. “So?” she asked him hesitantly. “Will you loan us the money or perhaps help us with Ivan and I can pay you in a few days?”
Spike shook his head. “We’re not banks, and we don’t work on promise of payment. I’m sorry about you and your brother, but you just don’t have anything of value to me.” It really was a shame, he thought, glancing her over.
He opened the door once again; they had been in here far too long. Spike was sure to get an earful from Cleo. For someone who wasn’t his old lady, she sure acted like it sometimes. “Time for you and your friend to go,” he said, glancing at the table where Stacy had several empty glasses in front of her, and was laughing uproariously at something Hector had just said.
Tears of frustration began to well up in Georgia’s eyes. She grabbed Spike’s hand and fell to her knees. “I will do anything for my brother. Anything you want, and I swear it’s yours.” Georgia wasn’t naïve. She knew the full implication of her words, and she didn’t care. If it would save Felix, it was worth it.
Spike raised an eyebrow. He looked back at the crowd of people barely forty feet away, and back down to the gorgeous Latina woman on her knees before him. “Do you know what you—” he started to ask, but she cut him off.
“When I said anything, I meant it,” she said quietly.
Spike took one last look at the Satan’s Disciples, drinking and laughing, and shut the door, leaving him alone in the office with Georgia.
Chapter Four
Georgia nervously stood as Spike slowly circled her. He looked her up and down appreciatively.
He had already noticed her rear; he stopped now to stare at it in the light. It was round, full, and supple. Spike reached out and placed his palm against her ass, cupping it firmly. He squeezed, testing Georgia’s reaction as much as he was the firmness of her butt.
Georgia, for her part, was expecting this, and didn’t resist. Spike rubbed his palm up and down for a minute, and then stepped away from her. He walked around to face her, taking stock of her front.
The vest clearly wasn’t hers, or at least it wasn’t her size. Her breasts weren’t huge, but they strained against the leather, rising even higher with every breath she took. The bottom half of her top was open, revealing a tight tummy that seemed to come more from genetics than exercise.
Spike dropped his gaze even farther, looking at the wide hips that came from her seemingly perfect ass, and her lean, tanned, powerful thighs. His eyes snapped up to meet hers, but they were no longer scrutinizing—they were filled with a dark, threatening lust.
He pushed her up against the shelves, trapping her again. Georgia bit her lip to keep from crying out. Spike smiled. He knew he scared her, even though she was pretending he didn’t. She had never met a man like him, he was willing to bet, let alone offered herself to one.
Spike ran his hands along her rigid body. She didn’t seem experienced, but to say she was unsexual would be a gross mistake. Her lips were an innocent, rosy pink, and Spike thought they begged to be tasted, to be bitten…to be wrapped around his cock. He began to stir down below as he flashed back to the image of her on her knees, with her big blue eyes staring up at him pleadingly.
He instinctively flicked his tongue out, wetting his lips. He hadn’t been this hot in a long time. He and Cleo had great sex, there was no doubt about that, and Spike had a lay or two on the side when someone caught his eye. Cleo was usually a bit pissy about it for a day or two afterwards, but then she’d revenge fuck some other guy and come back to him, so it all worked out.
The thing was, those women were a dime a dozen around Joe’s. They walked in and out of the bar every day. A girl like Georgia, however, wouldn’t look at him twice if she saw him in the street. In fact, she might go out of her way to make sure she didn’t look at him once.
He pressed himself up against her, making sure she felt how hard he was. This time she gasped, closing her eyes. Spike paused, grinning—he wasn’t sure if that sound had come from a place of fear or something else entirely. He had a hunch that if Georgia were to let loose, she would be every bit as provocative as the girls out in the bar.
“How do I know you’re going to do what you say?” she asked suddenly.
“What do you mean?” he asked, pulled out of the fog of his imagination.
“How do I know you won’t just fuck me and then leave me and my brother out to dry?” Georgia clarified.
Spike shrugged. “I guess you don’t,” he said.
“I thought you said you were a nice guy,” Georgia panted, breaking the tense silence.
“Am I being mean?” Spike asked mildly.
“You’re abusing the situation for your own advantage,” she accused.
“I beg to differ,” he countered, still running his hands up and down her narrow waist. “You offered yourself—I merely accepted.”
“Asshole,” Georgia muttered.
Spike grabbed both of her wrists, slamming them above her head, holding them there. Georgia let out a small scream, unable to hide her fear this time.
He leaned in until his nose was inches from hers. “Feel free to back out at any time,” he said, letting go of her. “I’m not the one with everything to lose.” Spike stepped away from her and gestured to the door.
Georgia didn’t move. She hated that she was in this situation—it was humiliating! Though perhaps the reason it was so embarrassing was because Georgia had actually begun to find herself genuinely attracted to this terrifying man.
Spike scared her to the core, but nowhere near as much as the realization that she was enjoying being pinned against metal shelving in a dirty back office.
He was trying to push her, frighten her away; then he would be off the hook helping her. But she wasn’t going to give up so easily. Georgia was willing to do whatever it took to save her brother.
She looked Spike square in the eye and lifted her chin, all fear gone. She was daring him to do whatever he wished with her.
Gripping the back of Georgia’s head, her thick brown hair cushioning his hold on her, Spike pressed his mouth to hers, slipping his tongue inside. He dropped his other hand to her back, cleaving his body to hers. Spike gathered Georgia into his arms, leaving her no escape.
Escape was the furthest thing from Georgia’s mind. She met Spike’s force with her own, winding her tongue around his. She moaned quietly, closing her eyes against the heat she felt building within herself.
Spike reached his hand down to slip between her legs, and he broke away from Georgia suddenly, shocked. She had been so incredibly hot and damp, he couldn’t believe it. Spike had wanted to scare her into running back home to Daddy and now he found himself with a raging hard-on that was pointing right at the girl—literally.
“What the fuck was that,” Georgia whimpered softly, mostly to herself.
Spike took a look at her, relieved to see that she seemed as shaken up as he was about what had just transpired between them. He quickly composed himself, discreetly adjusting his pants to obscure his throbbing hard cock. “Scared you might like it, or just plain scared?” Spike taunted Georgia, fighting to keep his voice from shaking.
Georgia dropped her eyes to the front of Spike’s jeans that did nothing to obscure his erection. “Really?” she said, pointing at his crotch.
Spike shrugged, trying to seem nonchalant. “I’m a guy—it doesn’t take much,” he scoffed.
Georgia stared at him. Why does he insist on being such a fucking prick? she wondered. She rolled her eyes and caught a glimpse of the clock hanging above the door.
“Forty-five minutes?” she cried. “We’ve been in here for almost forty-five minutes!” Stacy was surely scared shitless for Georgia, not to mention whatever she was dealing with out in the bar.
“Your friend is fine,” Spike said, correctly guessing why Georgia was freaking out. “My boys will make sure she gets home safe. And alone,” he added, seeing her face.
“I’ll make sure of that,” Georgia said firmly, pushing past Spike to open the door. He reached out to stop her, both of their hands gripping the doorknob. He loomed over her, and Georgia felt a heady sensation wash over her entire body.
“Where do you think you’re going?” he asked.
“I’m going to get my friend.” Georgia yanked the knob, but it held fast under Spike strong fingers.
“You’re not going anywhere,” he told her. “Not until you’ve finished, er, paying for our services.”
Georgia looked around. In the moment, the dingy room had been sexy in its distastefulness, but now that her head was clear, it was downright offensive. “I’m not having sex with you here,” Georgia said haughtily. “This place is disgusting.”
“You didn’t seem to mind a minute ago,” he replied with a smirk.
Georgia’s cheeks burned with embarrassment as she remembered the clear arousal in her reaction. “That was a minute ago,” she shot back.
Spike laughed. “Alright, then where?” he asked.
Georgia thought for a minute. “We can go back to my place.”
“Didn’t you say Ivan was planning on killing you? Shouldn’t you stay somewhere else, like a hotel or something?” Spike pointed out.
“Thanks, I hadn’t thought of that,” she said sarcastically. She grew serious, biting her lip. Spike wanted to do it for her. “I don’t want Ivan thinking he got to me,” Georgia said. “That, and I can’t afford it,” she added. “I need every penny for Felix.”
Spike considered the fact that her bedroom would probably make Georgia feel more comfortable. That was against his plan; he wanted to push her as far out of her comfort zone as he could.
He wanted her to admit that she was out of her depth, that she didn’t belong here. People like Georgia, good, innocent people, should stay on their side of the tracks. If her brother was in trouble, then Georgia needed to drop her brother, Spike thought. She had no clue what Ivan would do to her when the time came. Once he gave her a taste, however, he knew she would come to her senses and make a run for it.
***
Cleo looked at her phone. Spike had been gone with that girl for over a half an hour at this point. She narrowed her hazel, almond-shaped eyes and threw back a shot.
Next to her, Hector was charming the shorts off of Stacy. She was giggling up a storm; her drunken laughter made Cleo’s teeth grate.
Tiny leaned in on her other side, his massive stomach grazing her arm. “Is it a good idea for Hector to be hittin’ up a back-warmer from an unknown gang?” he muttered to her worriedly. “What if she’s someone’s old lady?”
Cleo gave Tiny a look. “Do you see any property patches on her?” she asked blankly.
Tiny frowned, half a dozen wrinkles appearing on his forehead. “Oh,” he said, squinting his eyes at Stacy. “I guess you’re right.”
“Besides, it’s not like she’s a real biker, anyway,” Cleo sighed.
“Right,” Tiny said, automatically agreeing. “Wait, what?” he cried in a strangled whisper. “What d’you mean ‘not a real biker’?”
“Tiny, seriously?” Cleo said, disheartened. “She’s got no patches of any kind, no colors, nothing. Her friend didn’t have anything on either.”
“If they’re not from a gang, then why are they here?” Tiny asked.
Cleo stared at the door to the back office. “I don’t know, Tiny.”
“How do they know about Ivan?”
Cleo sighed, exasperated. “I don’t know, Tiny!” she snapped. “But you can be damn sure I’m going to find out,” Cleo murmured to herself.
At that moment, the door opened, and Cleo saw Spike about to step out. She breathed a sigh of relief; the two of them looked as though they had been arguing. Maybe now the girl and her friend would leave, and Satan’s Disciples could get back to more important things at hand, namely Ivan.
Cleo wanted to confront Georgia about her and her friend’s disguise, but she accurately guessed that Spike had already noticed their fraud and that was why he had secluded her to the back.
She made a move to stand up, but right as she did, she saw Georgia drop to her knees, grabbing Spike as she fell. Is this fucking whore going to blow him with the door wide open? Cleo wondered.
Instead, Spike glanced out into the bar, his eyes completely passing over her, and he shut the door, leaving him once again alone in the room with Georgia.
Cleo closed her eyes to regain control of herself. If she wasn’t careful, she might snap, go into that back office, and beat the shit out of them.
It always bothered her when Spike picked up something on the side, but nothing a revenge fuck couldn’t ever cure. Watching Spike’s clear interest in the girl, however, brought out something much uglier in Cleo. Hot ropes of jealousy twisted in her gut, and she felt herself stand up, filled with anger.
She managed to restrain herself from heading towards the back, and instead directed her long legs to bring her to the bar. Waving halfheartedly to Joe, Cleo ordered a top-shelf whiskey and took a liberal sip when it was handed to her.
“Hey there!” a cheery voice said next to her.
Cleo turned to see Jinx smiling widely at her. “Hey, Jinx. How’s it going?” she muttered, sipping her drink again.
“Better than you, by the looks of it,” Jinx said, picking the cashews out of the nut bowl. Joe glared at her and flapped a towel in her direction, where Jinx promptly stuck her tongue out in response. “Is this ’cause Spike brought that girl into Joe’s back office where you two usually sneak off to do it when you think we don’t notice?”
Cleo stared at Jinx. Bikers were notorious for their
bluntness, but Jinx was on another level. She was young, barely twenty-one, with a bubbly yet dry nature that made her cheeky on a good day and downright disrespectful on a bad one. Right now she was riding the line for Cleo.
“Who is she?” Jinx asked, flipping her black and pink dip-dyed hair over her shoulder. Someone once asked her why she changed her hair so often. Jinx merely gave a secretive smile and said, “It keeps things interesting.”
Cleo glanced at the back room where the door was still closed. “No one important,” she growled, finishing her drink.
“She looks important,” Jinx said mildly.
Cleo looked back—they were coming out of the office, Georgia in front and Spike close behind her. Instead of joining the gang at the bar, however, Cleo watched Spike usher Georgia out through the rear entrance. She put her hand up to order another one.