In love and ruins

by Rachael Tonks

“I want to feel you, Nate.” My words rumble against his lips and without any reply, I feel his cock, pressing against my entrance.

  “Sit on me, baby.” His voice is strained, and I don’t hesitate. Rolling onto his back, I climb on top, his hands guiding me until I’m in the right position. I look at him, my vision not fully clear, but I can see enough to know that look he has in his eye. His lids are heavy and his gaze is wanton. He wants this, I know he does. And he’s not hiding it. Here I am, face-to-face with him, our skin pressed together as we mold into each other.

  Reaching down, I grab his cock, positioning it against my entrance, before relaxing back against him. His impatient hands find my hips, guiding me up and down his cock. He’s big, and even though I’m aroused, it hurts. Fuck, it hurts so bad, but in a good way. Filling me completely, I press my hands against his chest as I rock slowly onto him.

  “Fuck, Tara,” he groans loudly as I work a little faster with every movement. The more I relax into him, the more he thrusts upward, intensifying and deepening the contact.

  “Fuck,” he growls. “Your pussy feels so good… so tight.”

  Moans escape me, a mixture of pleasure and pain as he drives deeper into me. He drops one hand, his fingers finding my clit once more. As he circles it, I continue to rock on his cock. The feeling with him feels more intense, a little crazier than we have ever been before. Our eyes lock as we melt together as one. In this moment.

  Everything in my core tightens, and I can’t believe how fast the pressure is building.

  “I’m going to come,” I cry out, desperate to feel some relief from the pressure that just keeps on building. Nate knows exactly how to work my body, to get me to the point where I’m nothing more than a quivering wreck.

  “Me too,” he breathes, thrusting upward one last time before clasping my chin with his free hand. Dragging my face to his, he kisses me as I come apart at his touch. My body is on fire, my legs weakening as he kisses me in a way he’s never kissed me before. Somehow, it has more meaning, more passion. Rolling me onto my side, he continues to kiss me slowly, as if savoring this moment. This kiss.

  “I wish things were different,” he whispers against my lips. “Me and you together… it’s perfection.”

  “Whatever the problem is, we can figure it out. Together. Me and you fighting for one another.”

  “Shhh…” He strokes the loose strands of hair away from my face. “Let me enjoy you. Remember this moment forever.”

  “I’m yours forever,” I murmur, the words barely coherent as I force them out. The emotion causes a lump in my throat, making it hard.

  “No.” He clasps his eyes shut. “You deserve better than me, than anything I can offer you.”

  “All I want is you,” I rush out, the sudden realization that, for him, this is goodbye, has a sobering effect on me.

  Looking into my eyes, he recognizes the panic in them. They fill with unshed tears and I can’t control the tremble as my lip quivers. I’m trying hard, real hard, to fight back the emotion.

  “I shouldn’t have come here. This was a mistake.” He sighs, falling onto his back. “I’m a selfish asshole.”

  “Nate, I’m not a mistake… this, us… we’re not a mistake,” I choke out, leaning over him and placing my shaking hand on his rough cheek.

  “I never meant to give you false hope, Tara. I gave in to wanting you.”

  “Nate!” I yell at him. “Stop this. We are meant to be together. Whatever this issue is with your father, we can talk to him, get him to see how we feel for each other.”

  “Fuck! Don’t you think I’ve tried? Don’t you know I would step away from it all just to be with you? But I can’t. He would kill me, or worse. He would hurt you to get to me, and I won’t ever let anything happen to you.”

  “But, without you, part of me is dead already.”

  “Baby, please,” he whispers, clasping the back of my head and pulling it to his chest. “This isn’t what I want, but it’s the way it has to be.”

  “So, you’re giving up on me? On us?”

  “This isn’t a fucking choice, Tara. It’s something I have no goddamn control over.” I snap out of his hold, pushing myself up and trying to cover my naked breasts with my arm. I’m shivering, not because I’m cold, but because I’m scared and hurting.

  “Listen,” he says, sitting upright and sliding off the bed. “I should go. It’s not right, me being here, making you think this changes things. Because it doesn’t change a thing, Tara. And I’m so fucking sorry. More than you’ll ever know.” Grabbing his clothes from the floor, he pulls on his boxers, quickly followed by his jeans. And there is nothing I can do. I sit, sobbing, tears rolling down over my cheeks as I watch the man I love get ready to leave. I want to jump up, beg, anything to make him realize that somehow, we can make this work. But deep inside my gut, I know that’s nothing more than a fantasy. That willing things to work out between us won’t change a thing.

  Within seconds he’s walking out of the door, and I feel completely helpless. I grab a handful of the bedcover, pulling it to my face as I sob like a child. I’m a shell of the person I once was. My heart in tatters, my body aching as the pain thunders through me so violently.

  Having him in my life isn’t a choice, it’s something I’ve become dependent on. I need him as much as I need air in my lungs. As much as I need my heart beating to keep me alive. I’ve tried. I’ve tried to exist without him, and I can’t.

  My sobs come harder and louder. I can’t control the emotion that the pain in my heart is drawing from me.

  Nate

  Racing down the street, I’m going fast, way too fucking fast. I hit the brakes a little, the back end of the car screeching and kicking out. I fight with the rumble of the steering wheel to get it under control. My heart hammers loudly in my chest and I pull the car over. I shouldn’t be driving, I can’t fucking focus. I pull to the side of the country road, throwing open the door and falling from the seat. Adrenaline and anger course through me. I’m shaking violently as I try to get up from all fours. Only I can’t. The image of Tara, standing in front of me, the pain of her broken heart evident in her beautiful eyes, flashes over and over.

  I’m weak.

  Pathetic.

  A fucked-up man, controlled by his father.

  Finally pushing myself from the ground, I slump against the car as I contemplate what the fuck I’m going to do. If Jeffries finds out what happened, what I just did, he’ll gut me until I’m squealing like a pig. All I’ve ever known is the MC. Doesn’t mean I have to like it. Doesn’t mean I have to agree to every fucking rule they set before me.

  “Argggghhh.” I let out a loud growl of frustration. Balling my fist, I rear back, hitting out at the window on the car. Over and over my knuckles connect with the glass. I’m like some maniac as I stand there, screaming, hitting the glass repeatedly, until it finally shatters. My fist throbs and blood spills onto the ground. I step back, shaking out my hand, watching as blood splatters everywhere, but I’m numb. I can’t feel the pain. It doesn’t sting, despite it being cut up. And I know it’s because the pain I feel inside out-fucking-weighs any physical sort of pain.

  Standing in the middle of the road I just stare. Stare at my clenched fist. I have to go. I need to get back. Jeffries will wonder where I am. How my meeting with Brax was. After pulling me out of the deal with Brax, he finally changed his mind and gave into Brax’s demands to work with me and only me. Only, I can’t deal with the motherfucker who seems hell bent on ruining my fucking life. But, if I don’t return soon, he’ll send out the fucking search party for me. I move quickly, drop back into the car, slam the door shut, and rev the engine once more. I hate the fucking car, but my wonderful father insisted. Give me the goddamn bike any day.

  Finally pulling up outside the house, I cut the engine, step out of the car, and dig in my pockets for my cigarettes. I need something, anything that can take away the edge. Cigarettes aren’t gonna do jack, but for now it’s all I got
. I hold the flame to the tip of the cigarette and inhale the smoke; the familiar warmth fills my lungs.

  “Took your fucking time, didn’t ya?” His voice causes my eyes to roll. I turn, offering him a fleeting, fake smile.

  “Dad,” I say with a tip of my head.

  “What the fuck happened here?” His hand points to the smashed window. I think quickly, hoping to give a reason why my knuckles are fucked as well as the window.

  “Some kid tried breaking into the car. Don’t worry, he came off much worse,” I say, holding up my fist. His eyes widen, then narrow on me.

  “Well, who was it?”

  “I have no idea,” I reply, taking another drag of the cigarette.

  “What do you mean, you don’t know?” His voice is low, and his gaze is hard on me.

  “Back the fuck up,” I warn him. “Some kid. Some kid I’ve never seen before, that’s all.”

  “That’s all,” he chirps. “I want it fixed. Tomorrow, Nate.” He points his finger at me, before spinning on his heel and striding toward the door.

  “I’ll take it to the garage, get Jarvis to fix it,” I call after him. I watch as he walks away only to stop and glance back at me.

  “Come on, fucker. We need to talk business. And parties. Mostly business, but you know, the party is important too.” He chuckles like what he said amused him. Flicking the cigarette to the ground, I follow him into the house. As soon as I’m inside, I spot Jarvis and give him the key to the car, letting him know it needs to be fixed.

  I race up the stairs and make my way to my room. Digging into my pocket, I retrieve the key for my door. The only way to keep anything fucking safe in this place. My body shakes and I need something. Something that will make whatever he wants to talk about a little more bearable. I drop to my knees, digging under my mattress for the one thing that is sure to take the edge off long enough for me to deal with this asshole. Pulling out the white substance, I turn to the table just beside my bed. Pouring out the white powder, I grab the deck of cards, pulling one from the pack. Scraping, I make a neat line before grabbing a twenty-dollar bill from my pocket. Rolling it up, I press one end just inside my nostril, the other lined up against the end of the line. Holding one nostril closed, I inhale deeply, sweeping the dollar bill over the line, snorting the white powder. As soon as I taste it at the back of my throat, the effects kick in. I sit up, feeling flushed and completely euphoric. Like my senses are on high alert. I jump to my feet, ready to tackle whatever shit Dad has to throw at me. Coke always takes the edge off. Makes me forget the bleak. At least until the come-down. Swiping my hand over the remaining powder, I get rid of any evidence before heading out of my room. Locking the door, I turn and make my way down the stairs and into the main room where we hang out. It has a bar, pool tables, and walls lined with photos of all crew members. Like a damn hall of fame.

  Running the back of my hand under my nose, I make sure I’m clean before entering. Although it’s not against the MC code, I know Dad will be pissed if he catches on that I’m using to cover shit up. Which is exactly what is happening.

  Striding into the room with my newfound, artificial confidence, I stroll over to the couch, dropping in beside Dad who sits firmly in the armchair. Each hand rests on an arm, his chin high, eyes focused on me. Meeting his eyes, I pull one leg over the other before digging into my jean pocket to retrieve my cigarettes.

  “So.” His voice bellows. “How did it go?” he asks with a tip of his head. “The meeting with Brax.”

  “Casual,” I reply, gripping the cigarette between my teeth while I fidget, trying to get the lighter from my back pocket.

  “Here,” he roars, my head snapping at him as the metal lighter hits me hard on the chest.

  “Fuck,” I grumble, grabbing it from my lap and igniting the flame, holding it to the end of my cigarette.

  “So…” He leans forward, his hands now intertwined, his jaw resting on his clenched fists. “What about the cargo? Did he say when it will arrive?”

  Taking a drag, I dip out my tongue wetting my suddenly dry lips. “He’s in talks with Marty Musella about getting everything we asked for.”

  “When?” he growls. “Give me something to fucking work on here. Shit.” He sighs, reaching for his knife that lies before him on the table. Twirling it between his fingers, he drops the tip on to the table, cutting into the dark wooden coffee table. Swirling it in his fingers, he works the blade further and further into the wood.

  “We didn’t talk dates. There has never been any urgency on our part.”

  Drawing back his hand, he rears up the knife, driving it down against the table. “Wrong fucking assumption.”

  “I’ll handle it,” I quickly reply. “First thing tomorrow, I’ll get something firm from him.”

  “Tonight, Nate. You had tonight, and you fucking failed. Always fucking failing me.” His tone lowers, and his eyes narrow on me. I don’t mistake the look he gives me. It’s one I’ve seen a thousand times before. The look of disappointment.

  “I made this business work between us and Brax. Me, Dad. Me,” I yell, stubbing my thumb against my chest. “I’ve never let you down yet.”

  Adjusting his posture, but never breaking the connection he has with my eyes, he rolls back his shoulders. “That’s not really the truth though is it, boy?” He squints so intensely; I can barely see his eyes.

  “Don’t have a clue what you’re fucking talking about.”

  “I think you do,” he says, pushing himself up from the chair. Stepping closer, my eyes dart to the bodies standing just behind him. Silver, Matteo, Roach, and Davo, all stand behind him.

  “The fuck…” I all but gasp as my dad leans over me, his hand landing heavily on my throat. Squeezing with all of his might, I struggle to breathe.

  “I gave you a fucking order, rat boy.” He reaches for my hand, grabbing for the cigarette.

  “Get the fuck off me,” I choke out, my words barely audible.

  “You were with her tonight.”

  My heart stops beating. Somehow he knows. Which means I’m being followed.

  “She is promised to me. She just doesn’t know yet.” His words come out as a snarl, his lips pulled back and his teeth all on show. “How can I have you, my only son, living under my roof if you can’t keep your fucking hands off what is mine?”

  Holding the cigarette in his hands, he slowly moves it closer to my face. Pushing my head down against the back of the couch, he forces the end of the smoking cigarette against the skin of my cheek. I groan and clench my eyes as the burning sensation takes over all of my sensations. The smell of my flesh burning stings my nostrils.

  “I’ll kill you before I let the two of you be together.” He screeches his clear warning into my ear before releasing his clamped hand from my throat. Instantly coughing and spluttering, I hold my hand against my cheek. He turns, grabbing his knife from the table and points it directly at me. “I’ll slice your fucking chest open and rip out that damn heart of yours.”

  The adrenaline pumps the blood around my body at a million miles an hour. I press back into the couch, trying to put some distance between the tip of the blade and my face. There is nothing I can say. Nothing that will make any of this go away. He fucking knows. I can’t deny that shit and trying would be a certain death sentence.

  “I need to hear you say it.”

  “Say what?” I ask with a slight lift of my shoulders.

  “That you understand she is mine and you will keep your filthy fucking hands off of her.” He speaks slowly, like he’s patronizing some damn child.

  “I got it. Okay.” I hold up my hands in a mock surrender. “You want her, she’s all yours. But don’t forget, Dad, I went there first. If you're happy with my sloppy seconds, be my guest.”

  His fist hitting the side of my face snaps my head to the side. I straighten up, looking at him as if to question if that’s all he’s got.

  Turning to the guys behind him, giving them a nod, he says, “Teach h
im a lesson he ain’t never gonna forget.” He turns on his heel, storming out of the room and the guys surround me. Hands are on me before I can open my mouth to reason with them.

  “Guys…” I force out as they drag me to my feet. “You don’t want to do this.” My voice is calm, and my gaze meets Silver's.

  “Just doin’ what we’re told. Should fucking try it sometime.”

  “This is bullshit and you know it,” I yell at them, but they don’t falter, not even for a second. They obey my father, no questions asked. Only, these motherfuckers should know that when my father is no longer running the show, the responsibility falls to me. MC rules. Unless someone tries to overthrow me.

  The tip of my boots drag against the wooden floor as they lead me to the sliding doors which lead to the back yard. The back of the clubhouse meets a small ravine. I spent hours there as a child. You could call it our safe place to escape when things weren’t pretty. Which was most of the time.

  My mind races with thoughts of what is coming. If they were going to beat my ass why bring me outside? My eyes flit between the three men. They are all the senior members of the club. Ones I’ve known all of my pathetic existence, and this certainly isn’t the first beating I’ve had from them.

  “Tonight, my little pussy motherfucker, we’re playing a game,” Silver says with a deep-throated chuckle. “It’s one of my absolute favorites.”

  Digging my heel into the ground below, I force us to a stop. My teeth clenched together, I narrow my eyes on the silver-haired man standing in front of me. “Be careful, old man.”

  “Careful isn’t really my fucking style, boy. You should know that.” There’s no denying that Silver is one of the craziest motherfuckers I’ve ever met. He laughs like a maniac and certainly acts like one. There are no morals where Silver is concerned. But he’s loyal to my father. Always is and always has been.

  “And when my father is no longer here?” I snap my arms from the men as all eyes are on me, and I know I have their attention. “Who will you be loyal to then?” I ask with a lift of my chin.