Jack of Spades_A Bad Boy Biker Romance

by Rana Raynes

  I stop myself right there. I'm feeling flustered as it is, I don't have to get myself worked up even more over imaginary erotic scenarios involving my co-worker and some random thug.

  Even though I have to admit he is handsome in a way. Not like Jay is handsome. Jay's got a face you could use for after-shave commercials, no problem, and from what I've seen of his body (not that much unfortunately) he could also model underwear. Still, despite the good looks, Jay has this bad boy air to him, with the kutte and the swagger and the tattoos, but with Leon, Amber's suitor, the vibe is turned up to maximum levels. He looks as if he could kill you with his bare hands and I doubt you could disguise that by a fancy suit.

  Amber isn't in the least impressed by his menacing aura though. She treats him like a beloved pit bull puppy. Eventually, when she has had enough of him getting in the way, she manoeuvres him to the bar and points at one of the stools.

  “Sit,” she says and he obeys just like a well trained dog.

  “Stay,” she adds with a grin after he has settled down and I almost laugh when I see his face. It's so full of adoration, it's nearly comical. But it also invokes another reaction in me, one I haven't quite counted on: I'm jealous. Not of Amber and him, but of the way he looks at her.

  God, I would kill for someone looking at me like that.

  My eyes flick to Jay who's still sitting at the MC's table. One short glance is enough to stir up butterflies in my belly. I throw all caution to the wind and put five shot glasses on the bar.

  “Tequila anyone?” I ask, raising the bottle. I look straight at Jay, because it's really only him that I'm asking. Not to exclude the others is merely common courtesy.

  I can see that he gets that from the way he stares back at me. Hungry. My stomach clenches. What the fuck am I doing?

  I will my hand not to tremble when I tip the bottle over the glasses to pour the drinks. I could do this in my sleep. I don't even have to keep my eyes on the glasses, I choose to do so because I can't watch Jay without blushing. It's enough that I can feel it, as if his presence has some magical effect on me. My silly knees are getting weak again.

  Once he's settled down on a bar stool right in front of me I push one glass towards him, one towards Leon. The third guy hasn't moved or even looked up from his phone, he's still sitting at the table, staring at the screen. It must be important.

  “What's your friend's name?” I ask Jay.

  “Danny. But don't bother. He'll come when he's ready. I think he's too occupied with sexting to hear anything we say.” He gives me another one of these honey-sweet smiles that make my brain melt.

  “That's not true,” Danny calls over from his table without averting his eyes from the telephone screen. “I'm with you in a moment.” Though he makes no move to get up and keeps typing his message.

  “We'll include him in next round then,” Jay says, apparently unwilling to wait any longer and grabs his glass.

  Amber comes over and stands next to Leon who uses the opportunity to put his arm around her waist and pull her close. She doesn't slap his hand away. I suppose that means she might have reconsidered hooking up with him again. He looks at her as if she's the sun and I begin to wonder if I'm too uptight about this whole rules-business of not getting involved with customers. Maybe there is no harm in having a bit of fun.

  I return my attention to Jay who smiles at me again. I can feel the remainder of my resistance thawing. He's too gorgeous not to be tempting at least.

  “To you, Kat,” he says, raising the shot glass and the others follow suit. “Welcome to Grand Oaks.”

  “Thank you.” I mirror the smile and the movement, then everyone throws back the shot simultaneously. It burns down my throat, sharp and hot and reassuring. It's good. I want another one so I refill the glasses.

  This time even Danny is so gracious to join us. He shuffles over, pushes a couple of bills towards me to settle his tab and gulps down the booze, then, to my surprise, leans over the bar to press a scratchy kiss to my cheek.

  “Good to have you here,” he mumbles.

  I hadn't expected such a warm welcome from someone who's so far only been kind of an extra in the drama of my life but it's nice to get it. It conveys a sense of familiarity, as if I'm actually already included into this little group, and it somehow makes me feel all warm and fuzzy. Even more so when I realize, it may be part of him anticipating I'm going to start something with Jay which may – at least for a moment – indeed make me family.

  I wonder how obvious it might be from the outside what's going on here. Obvious enough to get the hint to take off and leave us alone, apparently. But feeling like the fifth wheel isn't the only reason for Danny's early departure.

  “Got a date,” he declares not without pride, waving his phone at us. “See you tomorrow.”

  The guys pat him on the shoulder and then it's only the four of us.

  “I can't believe that son of a bitch scored with that chick,” Leon mutters, mostly to himself, when the door has clicked shut behind Danny but Jay just shrugs, unconcerned, and Amber says: “Why not just be happy for him? He's a sweet guy.”

  “I just meant... since he cleaned out her boyfriend and all. So first he rips him off at pool and then he gets the girl?”

  Amber still has no sympathies for pool-guy. “That guy's a dick. Arrogant, cheap, and he treats his girlfriend like shit. If you ask me he deserves a lesson and she deserves better, so it's pretty much a happy ending in my book if Danny and she have a little bit of fun together.”

  I can't bring myself to care about the ambiguous morality of the situation either. Not when Jay is looking at me like he is, with this irresistible smile and eyes bright with affection. I want to reach out and touch his hair, check if it's as soft as I imagine it to be, but instead I raise the bottle again.

  “Another one?” I ask.

  Jay laughs. “I think I should stop as long as I can still walk.”

  “Seems reasonable.”

  “Reasonable usually isn't my strong suit.”

  His smile makes shivers run down my spine, pooling hot in my lower abdomen. I need something to distract from how light-headed he makes me feel, so I say the first thing that comes to my mind.

  “So what's with the patch?” I ask, pointing at the Jack of Spades on Jay's jacket.

  He follows the direction of my fingers. “The Jack of Spades? Well, it's the VP badge of our club. And it's also kind of a pun. My mom called me Jack. After Jack Kerouac, she claims but I'm not so sure. The MC was founded before I was born by her brother and his best friend, my father, and I strongly suspect she anticipated I'd end up as the club's VP one day. So it was sort of a prophecy. But as children are I wasn't too keen on my parents attempts to plan my future. At some point, after a million Jack of all trades-references, I adopted Jay as a nickname. But looks like fate caught up with me after all.” He grins.

  “So you're really called Jack?”

  “Yeah I am. Jack Thomas Morgan, at your service.” He takes a little mock bow. “I'm glad she didn't call me Jean-Louis,” he adds as an afterthought.

  “That's Kerouac's real name?”

  He nods.

  “The more you know...” I can't think of anything else to say but the next diversion immediately presents itself: Next to us Leon and Amber have started kissing. It's a bit like I imagined it to go down – she's got her hand wrapped around his throat to keep him in check and is feasting on his mouth, enjoying his tongue and lips with utter abandon while he has put his hands on her waist and tries to keep himself under control. It's a stunning sight.

  My eyes flick back to Jay who winks conspiratorially. He seems amused. I don't know what to say but it turns out I don't need to say anything. He reaches out for my hand and takes it into his, make the butterflies flutter in my stomach again.

  “I like you,” he says, giving me an almost shy look. The boyish sweetness of his confession takes me by surprise. His thumb draws circles on the back of my hand.

  “I l
ike you too,” I confess, somewhat lamely. But what else can I say. At least it has the effect I hoped for. He leans closer, so close our lips almost touch. I can feel his breath on my skin, hot and damp, and I close my eyes in anticipation of a kiss.

  He doesn't rush into it. At first there's only the lightest brush of lips against mine, just enough for me to get impatient. To want more. The need for it is prickling under my skin. It turns me on how much he is in control of this, of me and my desires. I've never felt this desperate for a simple kiss. I could just close the last distance between us but that would spoil the fun. Instead I wait with bated breath for him to kiss me.

  His lips are soft when he finally nips at mine, gentle. I'm so eager for him to deepen the kiss but he takes his time. It's nothing like the kisses I'm used to, neither chaste nor greedy and least of all reserved. It's obvious that he tries to find out what I like, that he observes my reaction. He's still in charge of this kiss but he reacts to me, to my mouth opening against his, to my impatience. His tongue slips against mine, almost tentative. He tastes of liquor and smoke and adventure. I want to mould myself against him but there's still the bar between us. There is nothing but his lips and his tongue and his hand in my hair, cradling my head, holding me.

  I feel so safe.

  But I also feel excited. So excited, I'm getting light-headed. The butterflies flutter in my stomach. I can't remember when or rather if I was ever turned on like this. We fit together like pieces of a puzzle.

  When he breaks away it's like flying, like I'm hovering an inch above ground.

  He's beaming at me. His smile makes me feel warm and hot and whole. His hand still is wrapped around mine.

  “Wanna come around the bar?” he asks. “I'd like to kiss you properly.”

  Damn. If the kisses get any better, I'm going to melt into a puddle and he'll have to mop me off the floor. But of course I do what he asks. My limbs feel like they're made from rubber, I'm wobbly on my feet. I just want to be held, strong arms wrapped around me.

  I sigh when he pulls me closer, into an embrace. He looks at me as if I'm the most beautiful, the most desirable woman he's ever seen. And then he kisses me again, and it's an entirely different kiss.

  There is still some gentleness in it but at the same time so much more desire. There is no more doubt about how much he wants me, that he needs me like air and food and water. He pulls me against his muscular body. My tits are pressed against his broad chest and he groans, his hands wander down my back, gripping my ass, pulling me even closer towards him.

  Oh my god. I can feel that he's aroused. I had not really thought as far ahead yet, and for a second there's an inkling of doubt. Do I really want this? Isn't this much too fast? Am I really ready for this? But he keeps kissing me and it's just too good not to let myself fall into it, this sweet madness.

  The world around me loses its contour, dims down and fades out, until it's only us in the spotlight. I mirror his hold on me, bring down my hands to grope his firm ass. He feels so fucking great. I'm beginning to care less and less about how fast this is going. It's just right.

  Somewhere at the fringes of my consciousness I notice something is off, a sound I haven't counted on, but mostly it's Jay going stiff of a sudden. He's alarmed. He lets go of me and then I see it over his shoulder: a woman is walking towards us fast, her face screwed up in fury.

  “What the fuck, Jay?!” she yells.

  It only takes the fraction of a second to put things together and the girlfriend alarm goes off. I leap backwards, out of the way. I don't want to get attacked by that woman, she doesn't look like a girl to mess with. If I'm honest, she looks like a perfect partner for Jay. She's as gorgeous as he is, blonde mane, stunning figure, tiny mini-skirt, the face of a model, but there's more to her that compares to Jay and his MC buddies, an air of aggressiveness. I wouldn't be surprised if she drew a knife and I have no doubt she will pull my hair or even smash my face into a table top, if she feels like it.

  I'm quickly retreating behind the bar while Jay catches her, holding her tight so she won't go after me; he's grasping her wrists to make sure he can't hit him either.

  I'm feeling stupid. I should have seen this coming. It was too good to be true. Guys like Jay are usually attached. They just have to flash a dazzling smile at a girl and she's putty in their hands. That often means they're not faithful either. Which I should also have known. Especially after the whole story with Mike.

  I'm suddenly angry with myself for falling for this, his act, my own eagerness, all this hormone-induced nonsense. I should thank the girl for opening my eyes.

  I look at them, how Jay holds her wrists, trying to talk her out of her rage.

  “Calm down, baby,” he says gently, and eventually she does.

  It's only then that she breaks into tears instead of trying to hit him. All the fight goes out of her at once, she's letting herself fall against his chest and he's pulling her into his arms to comfort her. They stand just like we stood only moments ago.

  “Sorry,” Jay mouths at me over her head and I would laugh if I didn't feel so angry and disappointed. For a moment I thought I had something to hold on to, something great, something with potential and future, and now I'm only numb inside.

  Amber who has been watching the scenes from the sidelines, comes over to touch my arm. She looks like she wants to say something. That's when I realize I can't hold on any longer, my cool façade is crumbling rapidly. I have to get out, and the faster the better.

  “I'd like to go home now if that's okay?” I say, trying to keep my voice steady while picking up my bag.

  “Yes, sure,” she says. “Don't worry, I'm gonna lock up.”

  I'm incredibly relieved she doesn't start a discussion and it will all be over in a minute. I'll manage to pull myself together for the time it will take me to get out of the door. Maybe not longer but long enough.

  Leon looks at me with the same half helpless, half sympathetic expression as Amber. It must be awkward for them too. But then they could have warned me. It would have only been fair.

  “Do you want me to take you home?” Leon asks but I only shake my head. He must have seen how close I am to losing control, so he doesn't press the point and lets me pass.

  “Kat, wait,” Jay says over his girlfriend's head but if anything that's the last straw. I need to go as fast as possible. I storm out of the bar like Cinderella from her ball just before it strikes midnight.

  Thankfully I'm wearing boots not glass slippers, so my escape goes rather smoothly.

  The night air is crisp with the first hint of autumn when I step outside. It's sobering but also depressing. A mental image of winter pops up in my head, Jay and me cuddled up in bed under a lot of blankets. Obviously my mind is already in full self-torture mode. I never realized how little it takes to fall in love.

  My eyes sting and I blink.

  The parking lot is dark and empty, except for my car and Amber's and two motor bikes. I should probably leave the car and walk. I'm not only too tipsy to drive, I'm also too upset. It will be safer to walk and it's not that far anyway. A bit of exercise will help me to calm down. It was only a kiss after all. Nothing serious. Tomorrow I'll be able to laugh about it, I'm sure. Tonight it's hurting like hell though.

  As soon as I leave the parking lot, I can't hold back the tears any longer. They begin to run down my cheeks as I let it all out, the disappointment, the anger, the sadness. I cry until I've got no tears anymore.

  Chapter 4

  Jay

  Crystal's sobs have faded and she snuggles closer, warm and soft, the feel and scent of her as familiar as ever. I don't know how often we stood like this, in loving embrace, close, yet never close enough. How often she tilted her head upwards so I could kiss her. Part of me wants to give into that, the animal part perhaps. The part that wants to get rid of the pent-up tension from kissing Kat, find a release for my arousal. But that's not the relevant part of me. I can't deny that I wish it was another woman in my arms
and I won't content myself with a replacement.

  Kat. I can still taste her. The longing for her is pumping through my veins. I'm drunk on her. I would like nothing better than follow her outside and explain what's going on. But I can't let Crystal alone right now. I owe her as much.

  She is my ex. We were together for five and a half years until we split up almost ten months ago. I guess we both really tried to make it work but in the end it just didn't. We simply weren't good for each other. When we first met she was a sweet, happy girl and now look at her – she's a mere shadow of herself. And it's entirely my fault. It's my fault she fell in with the wrong people.

  My environment is toxic, literally toxic. The guys are all nice, we're like family, but they're also too nice sometimes, generous, not just with liquor but all the other fun substances they're bringing to their parties: weed, ecstasy, LSD, blow, speed, meth, heroin, you name it. The MC doesn't have a hand in the drug trade but that doesn't mean we don't like to have a bit of fun on occasion.

  Mostly it's under control, we're not a bunch of junkies. But here and there someone overindulges and in this case it was Crystal. Nomen est omen, Leon joked in the beginning. We didn't take it seriously at first. Least of all me. She was my girl and I wanted her to have a good time. I liked it when she couldn't wait for me to get inside her, when she clawed at me with greedy fingers, her eyes bright with a whole cocktail of uppers. I liked her on downers too, warm and pliant and sensual.

  I realized too late what the lifestyle did to her. How she developed a habit, how a luxury became necessity, the drugs as essential as food. We still tried to make it work, for better or for worse. I'm loyal to the people I love, but over the months we began to fight more and more regularly. Small arguments at first, then larger conflicts including broken dishes, plates thrown against the walls and a lot of screaming. Eventually Crystal went into rehab. And I waited for her, hoping for a second chance. When she got out I was there for her. But it didn't take long until she fell off the wagon again. We tried it a couple of times, but at some point I had to face the truth – it wasn't her fault alone, it was mine as well. I had poisoned her. I had failed to protect her from the my toxic surroundings.