Ride or Die 2

by Claire C. Riley

  “Why you ungrateful little fucker! I know more about this world than you could ever hope to imagine. I’ve lived through more, done more, suffered more…You have no idea, son.” He took a step toward me.

  His hand was shaking, his gaze unsteady, and truly, I wasn’t certain if it was the long-term effects of drinking that made him so shaky or because of his anger at me for mouthing off. Either way, I wasn’t in the mood to listen to reason. The only reason I’d turned up there was that I was out of beer.

  “And unless you’re gonna speak to Rose with some respect, you need to serve yourself!” he snarled.

  His anger should have brought me back down from whatever hate-filled place I’d gone to, but it didn’t. His anger and self-righteousness only made me angrier. Everyone around there got to have what they wanted, and when they didn’t get it, they took it and made it theirs anyway. Yet me, I got nothing. I got a bitch that would rather fuck one of my club brothers and a dead best friend. Casa had mocked me last night, not seeing me as a threat, and it was that thought that spurred me on, because

  Fuck.

  This.

  Shit.

  All of it.

  Rose came back from the bathroom, offering us both a wary smile as she came back behind the bar.

  “Everything okay, boys?” she asked, her gaze sliding over us, clearly seeing the tension rolling off us both. I didn’t even know how it had gotten to this. Pops was just a drunk old man, and he was trying to help. But I was beyond help.

  And Rose, she was innocent too. She’d been at the club for as long as I could remember, and though she was one of the club whores, everyone knew that she was Pops’s, really. She hadn’t slept with anyone since they’d first hooked, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t, I thought bitterly. She was just a whore like the rest of the girls that came here. She wasn’t his old lady, and he’d never claimed her for his own. Bitch didn’t where his patch, which meant she was club property and couldn’t say no to a brother unless she wanted to get herself kicked out of the club.

  I stood up, more than ready to show everyone that I wasn’t the nice guy after all. That I would fight for what I wanted. I walked to the end of the bar, and both Pops and Rose’s gaze followed me warily.

  “No, everything is not okay,” I said, the words tasting like acid on my tongue. Unfamiliar, wrong, poisonous. “Help a brother out, will you?”

  She swallowed, looking nervous. “Sure, Dom, what can I do for you?”

  I jerked my head, gesturing for her to come to me and she did, slowly, her fight-or-flight senses kicking in. “It’s all right, I’m not going to hurt you. It’s me, Dom. I’m the good guy, right?” I smiled, but there was no warmth in my smile.

  “Of course you are, Dom.” She smiled back, swallowing nervously, her expression darting to Pops.

  “I need your help, Rose,” I said, stroking a hand down her arm.

  “Yeah? You need a drink?” she asked, a slight tremor in her voice.

  I laughed bitterly and shook my head. “No, I need my cock sucked.”

  There was a heavy pause once the words slid out, as if all three of us were waiting for the punchline to my ugly joke. But I wasn’t joking. I was serious. I’d show this old man what it meant to suffer, to have something taken from you. And I’d show this bitch that unless you wore your old man’s patch, you were nothing but a whore for this club. Just like Harlow had been.

  “Dom, I…” Rose stumbled over her words, her gaze not connecting with mine. “Let me just fix you a drink, baby. You seem tense. I can give you a back massage while you have a drink. I’ll go get it, okay?”

  She went to walk away and my hand latched onto her bicep, stopping her. “I don’t want a drink, Rose. I want you to suck my dick. You’re not saying no, are you? I mean, the club don’t need any more useless hangarounds that can’t do as they’re told. We’ve got plenty of bitches that would have dropped to their knees by now and sucked my cock dry, so you ain’t fucking special or anything.”

  Rose went silent, partly in shock and partly in humiliation at my words. Because I’d hit the nail on the head: she was just a club bitch. A whore ready for any of us brothers to use whenever we wanted. She didn’t belong to anyone, yet she’d gotten a free pass for too long, thinking she only had to fuck Pops to be able to stick around. Bitch needed teaching a lesson. Yeah, that was it.

  “Dom—”

  “Now, Rose!” I barked out, pulling her as I started to walk away.

  She stumbled but righted herself, looking back helplessly to Pops.

  Pops, who was just stand there staring at the both of us.

  “Pops, baby?” she called to him, but he backed up until his legs hit his chair and he sat back down, a look of disbelief settling into his tired features. He picked up his drink and threw the contents of it to the back of his throat before looking away.

  Some people believed that there was only one person made for you in this world. That that one person was your soulmate and once they were gone, that was it.

  Pops was one of those people.

  His wife had died and had taken his heart with her.

  He’d fucked Rose for many years now, because a man has needs, but he’d never claim her because he couldn’t. She wasn’t his wife, his soulmate. It was obvious to anyone that saw him that he cared deeply for Rose, and he could have stopped me from doing this at any time, but he chose not to, just like I’d thought. Because to stop me would be to admit those feelings, and to admit those feelings would be like admitting that his wife wasn’t his one and only.

  I was being a bastard. I knew that. Yet I was doing it anyway, because I could. Because I was sick of being the nice guy, of suffering in silence, of carrying the burden of a broken heart around with me and not being able to tell anyone.

  I wanted someone else to feel the pain I was feeling.

  Even if that someone was an old fucking man and a beautiful whore.

  So I took the only thing in this world that he cared for more than his booze, because I could, and I dragged her into the back room with me and slammed the door shut. I turned to stare at her as she tried not to cry, her eyes filling up with unshed tears.

  “You don’t have to do this,” I said to her. “You could always just leave.”

  Because it was true.

  She didn’t have to do this.

  But Rose—just like me, just like Butch, and just like Pops—couldn’t leave. This was all she had ever known. This was her world, her family, and her home. Without this club, she was nothing, and she wouldn’t risk that being taken from her. I knew how she felt.

  She slowly dropped to her knees in front of me, and I sneered down at her as I undid my belt and zipper, letting my jeans fall around my ankles. Rose reached up and pulled my boxers down, her eyes staring at my flaccid cock as she took it in her hand.

  “Why?” she said, her voice trembling. “I thought Pops was your friend. I thought I was.”

  I reached down and put my hand on the back of her head, letting my fingers stroke through her hair. “He is my friend. He’s my brother. And brothers share, unless their woman means enough to them to become their old lady. Are you his old lady, Rose?” I quirked my eyebrow at her, already knowing the answer but wanting her to say it.

  I needed to see the pain on her face.

  The hurt and the confusion.

  I needed to not be the only person who was broken and miserable in this world.

  Rose shook her head no, a tear trickling out of the corner of her eye.

  “Then what’s the problem?” I asked, the words barely making it out.

  She took a deep breath, wiped the tears from her face, and leaned forward, taking my cock deep into her mouth.

  Her mouth was warm and wet, but of course Rose did nothing for me.

  She was beautiful, funny, and sweet, but she didn’t have what I needed, and no woman ever would. Rose sucked hard on my cock, her hands playing with my balls while her tongue slid around my shaft, trying
to coax some life into it. But it was no good. It was as if my dick had died and no amount of sucking was going to bring it back to life.

  I kept my hand on the back of her head and closed my eyes, tipping my head to the ceiling as I thought about anyone else’s mouth on me but hers. Not only because she wasn’t doing it for me, but because I knew I was a bastard for making her do it.

  My cock twitched more and more, as I forgot about Rose and where I was and I thought about someone else, letting my mind travel backwards to a time and place where everything had been going right.

  Where I wasn’t a bastard and my best friend wasn’t dead, and the only thing holding me back was myself, not death.

  His chest was strong, muscle upon muscle layered on his chest and abdomen, and I couldn’t tear my gaze away.

  “You bringing that beer or what?” Butch laughed.

  I laughed back and walked out to the backyard. I’d only been in the house a couple of weeks, and Butch had decided that he couldn’t take my lack of yard work anymore. The lawn was almost knee high and getting taller by the day, so he’d borrowed an old lawnmower from Rider and brought it over that morning.

  The day, as it always was in Georgia, was hot. And I’d gone inside to grab us beers and come out to find him topless and wiping his old tee down his face.

  I handed him his beer and he chugged it gratefully. “That hit the fucking spot.” He laughed and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and my gaze followed every flex of his muscles.

  Butch saw my stare and smiled. “You okay, brother?”

  I nodded and found the strength to look away. “Yeah, just hot out here.” I cracked my neck from side to side as I turned away and drank some of my beer.

  I was lucky in that the properties out by Lake Pines all had a lot of land and a lot of tree coverage, because when Butch came up behind me and placed his arms around my waist I couldn’t do anything but lean back into his touch with a soft groan.

  His hands roamed down to the hem of my tee and he pushed his hands underneath so he could touch my bare skin. His mouth was next to my ear, his breath hot against my neck.

  “I know you weren’t drunk enough to forget what happened the other night, Dom,” he said throatily. “You don’t forget shit like that.”

  My dick was ready to bust out of my jeans, my body hard and trembling under his touch. Butch’s beard was rough against my neck and I turned my face so I could see him. Our eyes connected, my back to his chest, his hands holding onto me.

  “I’m not afraid of who I am, Dom. You shouldn’t be either,” he said, his words gruff.

  “I’m not afraid of shit.”

  He smiled that half-cocked smile of his. “Everyone’s afraid of something, brother.”

  I thought about that for a second, knowing he was right, and I turned in his arms so I could look him in the eye properly. I didn’t step away from him; I let his strong grip stay on me, and I used it to give me the strength I needed to finally speak.

  Butch had always been the cocky and confident one. And I had thought I had known everything about him until the other night—until we’d kissed, and then I’d realized that Butch was a different man than I had thought all along. I finally allowed myself to see those stares and those smiles for what they really were. But I wasn’t ready to admit any of it to myself. Not yet.

  “Cards on the table?” I said and he nodded. “I don’t know what this is, but I know I’m not ready.”

  Butch’s smile fell and he nodded. He took a step back and his hands started to slide from my waist, and I grabbed onto his wrists and held him still.

  “Never said I didn’t want to see what this was, though,” I added quickly, before I changed my mind. I grabbed his hand and started to drag him inside the house.

  He laughed as I pulled him, and it was the weirdest fucking thing ever. Butch was a beast of a man—tall, broad, hairy from his chest to his chin, with an array of tattoos over his arms, chest, and back—and here he was standing in my kitchen laughing like he was at a high school fucking dance.

  Before I could change my mind, I leaned down and pressed my mouth to his, our lips connecting and our teeth clashing as I pushed my tongue inside quickly before I chickened out. His hands shot up to my shoulders and he pushed me until my back hit the wall and I moaned against his mouth and gripped him harder, hungry for more.

  “Easy, brother,” he muttered between kisses, his knee coming between my thighs to push my legs apart. “Easy. There ain’t no rush.”

  But there was. Because my need for Butch was growing every time I saw him. Every time I touched him. I wanted him more than I’d ever wanted a woman before. Wanted his hands on my body, his mouth on mine. And I wanted to be inside of him.

  I pulled out of the kiss and stared at him, breathless, my chest rising and falling. He seemed so confident and certain, yet I felt like a fucking kid who was about to lose his virginity for the first time. I guess I sort of was.

  “We good?” he asked, his face suddenly serious.

  I nodded, my hands moving down his chest and toward his jeans. “This okay?” I asked.

  He quirked a smile. “Fuck yeah, brother.”

  He reached between us and grabbed my hand before placing it over the large bulge in his jeans. Almost came in my own pants right then.

  “How did you know?” I asked him, the palm of my hand rubbing over him.

  He placed a hand on the wall next to my head and leaned in closer, so we were almost nose to nose. “How did you not know?” he replied with a chuckle.

  And he was right. How did I not see this coming? How had I not realized that there was more to us than just friendship? The club and Butch were more important than anything. How could I have not known there was more to this than just friendship?

  “You’re my best friend, Butch,” I said on a sigh as his hand started palming me through the material of my jeans.

  “Can’t I be something more?” he replied.

  I closed my eyes and rested my head back against the wall. Could he be…something more? I wanted it. Sure as fuck needed it—him. But going public with this…that I wasn’t so sure about yet.

  “Can we keep it between us, for now?” I asked.

  His hand slid inside my jeans, and his rough fingers on my cock made my hips surge forwards for more.

  “Sure, for now,” he said, and I opened my eyes and looked at him. “I’ve accepted who I am, Dom, you need to do the same. I’ll wait until you’re ready, but you’ll have to find that peace within yourself at some point.”

  I nodded and then we were kissing again and our hands were stripping one another of our clothes. Bodies against one another, tongues intertwining, and everything else fading into the background.

  Chapter sixteen:

  Dom

  “Fuck!” I called out, and harshly pushed Rose away. “Fuck!”

  What the fuck was I doing? I shook my head and looked down at Rose, who was on her knees crying.

  “I’m sorry,” I said to her, hurriedly putting my limp cock away and pulling my jeans back up. “I’m so fucking sorry, Rose.” I crouched down to her so that we were eye to eye, and I felt more shame in those few seconds than I had in my entire life.

  Bitch didn’t deserve any of this.

  She was a good girl, always looked after us brothers, and patch or no patch, she was Pops’s. I knew this, everyone fucking knew this. I dragged my hands through my hair, my brain feeling like it was about to pour out of my ears at any moment. I felt full. Full up of everything—rage, pain, frustration, secrets. And I couldn’t do it anymore. I just couldn’t fucking do it. I needed someone to know, because if I didn’t tell someone I might as well be dead.

  Tears slipped from my eyes and I stared at Rose, her own tears finally slowing as she watched me with new concern, recognizing that this was something else altogether. That this wasn’t about sex, or power, or control. But that this was about pain and grief and bitterness. Loneliness.

  “I l
oved him,” I whispered, scared in case anyone heard me say it but also so fucking desperate for someone to understand. “I loved him, and now he’s gone and I don’t know what to do.” I held out my arms to show her how empty I was, how I was all alone in this, and I had nothing left. “I’m all alone.”

  My heart was on the floor between us, beating a steady rhythm toward its impending death, a bloody mess of an organ that I both hated and needed all at the same time. It was killing me while it kept me alive. I couldn’t remember a time when my chest didn’t ache like this. When the pain wasn’t screaming through my body.

  I looked away from Rose’s blue eyes and dragged a hand down my face, both hiding my shame and hiding my grief. I had no right to pull her into my mess, no right to try and defile her or whatever the fuck it was that she shared with Pops.

  Rose reached out and touched my arm, her soft fingers stroking the skin. When I didn’t look back up to her she scooted closer so she could wrap her arms around me, and it was then that I collapsed into her, my body feeling too heavy to stay upright any longer. She held me tight and close, her hands in my hair, hushing me, kissing the top of my head as she whispered things to me, and I cried.

  I cried the tears that I’d needed to get out for months.

  Pain that had needed to be purged from my body, finally breaking free.

  I cried, and she held me, and I pleaded my apologies. To both her and Harlow, but mostly to Butch.

  *

  I washed my face in the sink, letting the water trail down my chest, and I shook my head.

  “Use the towel, there’s less mess for me to clean up,” Rose said, handing me the towel that had been hanging next to the basin.

  I took it with a grunt of thanks, and dried my face and hair before standing upright. She was leaning against the doorframe, her arms crossed over her chest. Her eye makeup was still smeared at the corners where she had been crying, and I reached out to wipe it away but she flinched and moved her head away.