by Xyla Turner
Lori blushed and took a sip of her Long Island Iced Tea. “I guess I am. ‘I absolutely love one of their members. Nothing has happened between us yet, but I swear he is meant to be mine. So, stay away from my man, Apollo.”
I sat my cup of soda on the bar and looked at my longtime friend. While it sounded crazy, Lori being attracted to anyone was a major surprise. We always thought she would go into a convent or something. So, I was happy to hear that she was in love. Shit, I’d try to get them together myself if I knew the dude.
“Okay, okay.” I held my hands up in the air. “I will steer clear of him and anyone in the club. No worries here.”
“What?” she exclaimed. “I wouldn’t say that if you haven’t seen any of them yet. I haven’t met a Guardian that’s not gorgeous. Some are taken or married already. I don’t know if it’s the biker appeal or what, but the ones I’ve seen are hot as hell.”
I couldn't argue with that, because Razor, or whatever his name was, is hot.
Someone touched my hip, causing me to whirl around. It was Shay smiling gleefully and looking a little frazzled.
“Where you been?” I asked.
Shay simply smiled, as Lori said, “With her boo that she refuses to tell me who he is.”
“Are you serious?” I crossed my arms. “How long has this been going on?”
“About two months.” Shay smiled that ‘I just got fucked’ look.
Looking at my friends, I realized how long it had been and it hit me just how beautiful they really were. Lori had long dark hair with small, tanned freckles sprinkled on her cheeks. She was shorter than me, but only by a few inches. She was slightly curvier than me with C-cups, hips and a nice little rump. If she’d had a lisp, Lori could’ve passed for Drew Barrymore.
Shay was definitely an exotic beauty; her terra-cotta clear skin tone always had guys fawning over her. Her hair was long and flowing, and Shay spent a long time meticulously doing it every day because according to her, she did not believe in perms. People always asked her if she was related to Aaliyah, the singer, because she resembled her so much. At first, Shay thought it was a compliment but after years of it, she said it became annoying since she was Shay. Only Shay. Well, Sharon was her real name, but she preferred Shay. We were friends first because she didn't give a fuck if I was a mayor’s daughter or not. She challenged me one day in school and we became life-long friends from that day forward. Even after I moved, we always stayed in touch.
“So, explain.” I nudged her. “How does this work?”
“Well, we meet, hook up, and we both leave satisfied. Besides that, there isn’t much to tell.” Shay shrugged her shoulders.
Lori rolled her eyes which ended their movement on me. “See what I’m talking about? Two months and she won’t even share. Bitch.”
“Damn Shay. You have Lori calling you names now?”
Shay laughed out loud, catching the attention of several folks, including the bartender.
“Refill?” the blue-eyed man asked Lori from the other side of the bar.
She smiled and then nodded her head. I nudged Shay with my arm and whispered, “Are you really not going to share?”
She blinked up at me with those naturally long eyelashes and said, “It’s not that type of party. No one knows and that’s the game.”
“Okay, Shay.” I nodded. “I’ll give you that, but when the game is over….” I pointed to her and said, “You’ll need to share.”
“You got it.” She smiled.
“Anyway, as I was saying,” Lori chimed back in after sipping her drink. “Shay, Kylie was just sharing what Razor said to her.”
Shay’s eyes went wide as her mouth parted slightly. “Razor said something to you?”
“Not really. Just observing my riding skills and being a pervert.” It was time for me to shrug my shoulders.
“Giirrll,” Shay sang. “Razor is hot as shit. He doesn't usually go for the young ones. But if he’s offering a ride, and I were you, I’d take it.”
“No, I'm fine.” I shook my head.
“What did you say to him?” Lori asked.
“Told him, I don’t fuck bikers.”
“What!” Lori and Shay gasped.
“You heard me.”
“What did he say?” Lori asked.
“I don’t know. Don’t care either. I walked over here.”
Shay looked around the bar and after not finding what she was looking for, she turned to me. “Girl, you still crazy as shit. Fucking turning down Razor. There are women in here that would cut your ass to get at him.”
“It ain’t that serious.”
“The fuck it ain’t. Lori is head over heels in love with Apollo. We hang out with them all the time and if we’re hanging, you’re hanging. So, it’s kind of a big thing. These bikers might be Guardians and shit, but they are some bad ass motherfuckers. They’re good guys, but still.”
Lori nodded her head.
“Okay, and I still don’t fuck bikers.”
“What has a biker done to you?” Shay asked sincerely.
“I got enough to deal with on my own. I don’t need some vigilante dude fucking anything that moves, spreading their royal oats and riding away into the sunset on two wheels, leaving hearts broken and tears flowing. I have no time for bikers and definitely no time for bikers named Razor.”
Lori and Shay looked at each other with raised eyebrows.
Fuck that.
They didn’t know that my heart was already road kill to some stupid-ass biker. Another biker would never get that chance again.
To purchase book 1 in the Legion of Guardians MC Series, click here.
Let’s Ride: Legion of Guardians MC (Book 2)
FILL IN
Chapter 1:
Shay:
“What's wrong?” Greg asked as I laid across his bare chest with my elbows sticking out and my balled fist under my chin.
“Nothing, just thinking about Lori,” I murmured so I wouldn't have to lift my head to talk.
He was comfortable, physically and emotionally, for the moment at least.
“You still haven't heard from her?” he asked, his smooth voice laced with concern.
I wasn't certain if his worry was for Lori or me. Everybody in and out of town knew what Apollo had said and done. It had been almost six months, and I had yet to utter a word to the bastard.
My girl, Kylie, said that was all she did was utter something his way, just so there was no issue with her fiancé, Razor. His given name was Xander Willis, but his Legion of Guardians MC name was Razor, and he was their president.
There were biker clubs and gangs all around the Manor area, but the Guardians were my favorite. I had no problem admitting my bias, but they were the best of the best in whatever field they worked in. They weren't just bikers. They had a mission and they accomplished that no matter what it took. Including saving my girl Kylie, when her ex-band mate kidnapped her and almost beat the shit out of her. Not only were the Guardians not okay with domestic abuse, but she also belonged to Razor, and he personally beat the shit out of that man. Almost killed him.
If it wasn't for the idiot whose name I won't say, and if he weren’t there then that man would be dead. Razor would be locked up and not running his businesses or making my girl the happiest she's ever been.
In other news, I was quite happy after two toe-curling orgasms and a few slaps on my ass. Greg was on it today, but that was our game. Meet up, fuck and go the hell home or continue doing what we came for. We often screwed in bathrooms, closets, cars and a few times in an alley. This had been going on for about nine months, and it wasn't old just yet. I had an inkling Greg was trying to tell me something, probably some shit I didn't want to hear.
“No, there has been no word at all,” I answered him.
Lori’s parents had to know where she was, but they weren’t saying a thing. Kylie went so far as to hire the Guardians to find her, but Lori’s father got wind of this and kindly asked that we let her be, s
o she could get the healing she needed.
“Want to talk about it?” Greg interrupted my thoughts.
Uh, no.
I uncurled my fist, pushed away from him and said, “We said no beds, Greg. This can't happen again.”
Moving off the bed, I pulled on my thong, shorts, and t-shirt. My tingling fingers smoothed out the loose hair that tended to fly and stay out of place as I slipped my sandals on.
“Did I say something?” He pulled up in a seated position on the mattress.
“Nope. This was supposed to be simple, remember? Fuck and be gone. Your words. But no bed. We’re in a bed.”
I waved my hand towards his day bed that was against the wall in the house he shared with his twin sister. She was at work, and this was our lunch break. Greg was a volunteer firefighter for Manor and therefore did not have a steady gig. In his spare time, he worked construction in various places, so it was not odd for him to be off during the middle of the day. My boring ass job involved me sitting behind a desk, shuffling papers and forwarding travel nurses to their next destination.
“Okay.” His eyes lowered when he said, “You do know we've been doing this for almost a year now? Don't you think we’re past the stupid rules?”
I stopped moving mid-bend while grabbing my messenger bag.
“Past what?” My voice was suddenly curt and very clear.
“Fuck,” he murmured. “Shay, shouldn't we be past this shit right here? Still fucking in bathrooms, against walls, bushes, and shit. We’re not fucking kids hiding from Mommy and Daddy or big brother. What, does Razor have a claim over your pussy too?”
No the FUCK he didn't.
One curse that ran through my family was the way our emotions would clearly display on our faces.
My head reared back, almost violently, just as Greg stood up with his hands in the air.
“Wait, I'm…” he started to say. I stepped closer to him and slowly moved my hand up his hard chest to display one single finger in his face, the middle one.
“Fuck you Greg.” I enunciated every word, turned on my heel and left.
Big brother?
Claim?
Fucking asshole.
Those were the only words that turned over and over in my head as I marched back to work. Orgasm was forgotten along with the other man that had probably lose the right for his name to pass my lips.
Men, why even bother? This was why what Greg and I had was great. Maybe once every week or two, we'd hook up. Lately he was calling more often and then today he ‘runs’ into me on my lunch break and brings me back to his place.
Ugh.
I didn't need complicated or even sophisticated. I just needed to get laid regularly and I was good as new. No drama, no relationship, nobody knowing and no one in my damn business. Kylie and Lori didn't even know who it was.
Honestly, I just couldn't bear the humiliation or heartache after what the vice-president of the Guardians, Bronx, pulled on me. I swear I was in love with him just like Lori loved Apollo. At the time, I had tracked all of his movements, made sure I was in the same places with him, and I was in his presence. The first couple of months, he ignored me until I turned the heat up on his ass.
One drunken night at Peppers, I gave him a lap dance and kissed him like my life depended on it. To my surprise and dismay, Bronx slapped me on the ass when I finished and sent me home in a cab. I had hoped he hadn't adopted Razor’s model of not messing with younger women. It wasn't that I was in my early twenties, but even early thirties for some of the bikers was too young. It made sense since I knew I could be a Petty Betty, slightly immature and vengeful. When I wanted to, of course.
After Bronx sent me home, I tried to lay low due to the embarrassment but that would only work so long because Lori wanted to see Apollo and Kylie was still on tour. Then on that dreaded night, after I worked really hard trying to forget his rejection, as soon as I walked through the doors of Peppers, I was swung around and pulled outside by Bronx.
In all my sass, I jerked my arm loose and asked, “May I help you? Don't worry, I'm not giving out lap dances tonight to people that aren't interested in what I'm offering.”
His head tilted to the side as his heavy eyes seemed to see directly through me. “That's what you think?”
I loved his voice. It wasn't gravelly like Razors, but gruff and deep like I loved in my men.
“It’s what happened, Bronx,” I said as he continued to push me towards his bike.
He was dressed in dark jeans, a plaid shirt and he had on his cut. His sultry cologne was intoxicating, and I swear it clouded my judgment.
Bronx swung his long leg over the bike as I stood in front of the bike and eyed him suspiciously.
“Get on,” he commanded.
“Why?” I asked.
“I want more than just a tease. You ready for that?” One of his eyebrows raised. “You rubbing on my dick is nice but can you ride it? Take it? Anywhere?”
Holy shit.
My panties were instantly wet as I stood in the cool air rubbing my legs together to relieve the ache the bald man started between my legs.
“Only one way to find out.” I walked to the back of the bike and swung my leg over the center. “You better make it worth my while.”
He laughed, started the ignition and drove off.
We went to my place since it was closer than his, but I thought he had one it so I would feel more comfortable. The weird part was that he already knew where I lived and instead of sending chills down my spine, my panties continued to get wetter.
Bronx more than delivered that night, even though he didn’t put his dick everywhere. I thought he meant to include anal, which I had yet to do. He could probably tell that since the third round was from the back, and he had kept rubbing his finger around my tight hole. Shit, I would have tried but the man was huge.
When we were done, he laid in the bed, pulled me close to him, and we fell asleep. I thought he would have left, but I was praying all along he wouldn’t. I had dreamed of Bronx taking me like that, staying in my bed, fucking my brains out and doing it again in the morning after I made him breakfast. My mind went there because he was holding me so tight. Who would have known he was a cuddler?
Then the dreaded call happened, and he had to miraculously go.
Who did he think I was?
I felt so humiliated and played.
Played like a damn fool.
I lost my cool, threw his clothes at him and sent him on his fucking way. He was dead to me, and I cried myself to sleep murmuring those very words all night.
That was four fucking years ago.
Over the past year, since I was more involved with Guardian shit because Kylie was the Pres’ old lady, I was around Bronx a lot. We only had a couple of run-ins but beside those we avoided each other like the plague.
One night he was drunk as shit, and nobody was around. Although I should have left his ass at Peppers, I didn’t. Big Joey helped him get in my car, and somehow I got his ass to my couch, where he passed out until the next morning. When I woke, there was a note that said, “Thanks.”
He was already gone.
I just shook my head and tried to forget that I had a heart.
My last encounter with the Guardian’s VP sort of left me speechless. It was the night Apollo had annihilated Lori, and I completely lost my shit. Earlier that evening, Mr. VP stopped some guy from trying to talk to me by using his intimidating presence and hovering near our table. The poor guy didn’t even stand a chance and we wouldn’t have worked anyway if he let some other guy run him off. However, the point being Mr. VP and I were nothing, so his presence wasn’t welcomed. I got in his face about it, and he barked back at me. Said something about parading my men in front of him. Bronx had never talked to me like that before, so it caught me off guard.
It must have been a full moon that evening because Bronx and I weren’t done arguing yet. After I went to rip Apollo’s jugular vein out of his neck, Bronx carried me ou
t of Peppers, slapped me on the ass and started to scold me for being so impulsive. I had the distinct feeling he was talking about other things. I was semi-drunk, so I tried to broach the conversation with him, but he cut me off and asked, “you wanna have this dance?”
The way he said it made me think twice about going there with him. He seemed pissed and not about me going off on his friend but something else. That was nearly a year ago, which was the last time I was on his bike. Since he didn't trust me to go home, he put me on his bike and brought me home. Just as he was about to go into the dance, he received a call and had to leave.
No surprise there.
***
Lately I was feeling discontent and I had an to make some changes.
Just an inkling.
At that moment, I was okay with shuffling papers just like I was okay with screwing a guy for nine damn months.
Who does that?
“Hey, back so soon,” Oscar, the security guard, greeted. “Get a little in for me?”
I threw my straw at him as I walked passed the security desk.
“Shut up,” I hissed.
“Well, did ya?” He kept at it.
Oscar always knew when I got some action during lunch because he said my hair no longer looked like the perfection that I walked in with. Everyone who really knew me knew I took hours doing my hair. I refused to get a perm or relaxer for my thick locks, so I was forced to straighten, braid or twist the beehive into miraculous wonders. Lori and Kylie always called me crazy for waking up at six in the morning just to do my hair, but I always told them these are my black girl problems. They needed to read some of our natural hair magazines or watch YouTube.
I recently made Kylie spend the night with me and sit in the bathroom while I took one hour and ten minutes to straighten my hair and apply my makeup.
She fell asleep twice and said that if she had to do that every fucking morning, she'd do a Sinead O’Connor and cut the shit off. Razor might have had a problem with that, but he'd take her any way he got her. She was the one to break the President’s rule about younger women. He was forty-four with a birthday coming up and she was thirty-three, the same age as me.
