by M. N. Forgy
He sits on the toilet, his head hanging and resting in his hands.
Turning, I place my hands behind me on the rim of the sink. He looks like shit, he’s clearly in withdrawal from alcohol.
“When was your last drink?” I come out and ask. He jerks his head up in reaction, and I know my diagnosis is accurate.
“Just because I saved your ass last night doesn’t mean we’re going to sit around and tell each other our life’s story,” he smarts, making me roll my eyes. I see he has his asshole personality even on death’s doorstep.
Having enough of men swinging their dicks around, I push myself up off the sink.
“Fine with me,” I mutter, walking out of the bathroom. I’m not sure where I’m going to go, or what I’m going to do though. I know I can’t just return to my room. Alvaro will be waiting for me.
Halfway to the door, I hear him stumble out of the bathroom.
“Wait,” he rasps.
I stop, but don’t turn around.
“After last night, you can’t just walk out of here and return back to your normal day to day, Anahi. It’s not safe.”
I scoff and turn. “I thought we weren’t telling each other our back stories?”
He shakes his head, sitting on the mattress. His eyes pinched shut, causing little wrinkles to form on his forehead. “I, I haven’t had a drink in a day or so. I don’t know. It feels like weeks ago. I’m trying to quit, but the way I’m fucking feeling I’m about to give up,” he admits, his voice holding some vulnerability to it. Now I feel like a bitch.
Stepping up to the bed I rest my knee into the mattress, not sure what to say. He lifts his chin. Those green eyes fall on me with a transfixed gaze. He needs help to get sober, but is too proud to verbally ask. I want to be the one to help him. I owe him that much for coming to my defense last night.
He licks his bottom lip as he stares at me, and my eyes fall to his mouth. His lips aren’t too big, or too small. They’re perfect, and I want to kiss them so badly. To feel them against mine.
“Let me help you,” I whisper, touching his bottom lip with my index finger.
“I’m fine,” he replies.
Taking my hand from his mouth I raise a brow.
“Is that why they call you Bull, because you’re always talking bull shit?” I banter.
“I’m going to be sick,” he burps, breaking the intense stare.
Jumping into action I grab the nearest trashcan and run to his side just in time. His hair falls in his face, and I purse my lips in thought. Do I hold his hair?
I mean, I would want someone to hold mine. Lifting my hand, I hesitate, nervous if locking my fingers into his tresses would make him become defensive.
Before I can grab onto those black locks he lifts his head.
“False alarm,” he mutters, falling on his side onto the mattress.
“Have you had any liquids at all today?” I question, nervous he might be dehydrated.
He shakes his head, his eyes closed.
“I can go get some water and stuff to help.”
Turning toward the door, Bull stands, wavering on his feet.
“Bobby!” he hollers toward the door.
And just like that, the door opens and the blond guy appears. He must have been standing guard or something. Knowing that makes me feel a little more at ease that Alvaro isn’t just going to walk in here and put a bullet in my head.
“‘Sup, Prez?” Bobby asks. He’s wearing a white shirt, and dark jeans. His black cut fitting him snugly and the patch telling me he’s the road captain. What is that?
“Follow her,” Bull demands. “Anahi, make sure you wear my colors.” Bull points to the black leather vest strewn across the chair. I notice then I’m not wearing them, he must have taken it off me when I was out.
I frown, looking the thing over. Curious why he wants me to wear it outside. “Why?” I shrug.
Bull lifts a brow. “You had no problem wearing it the other day, now stop mouthing me and put the fucker on Little Bee,” he clips, lying back down. I glare at him calling me a bee. I know what it stands for. I’m a worker bee to Alvaro’s beehive.
Growling in my throat I turn, grab his colors as he puts it, and slam the door shut. I mean, I want to argue but if I do I’m then at the mercy of Alvaro and The Cartel.
If I have to pick my prison; my owner, I make a vow to the man in leather who rides a Harley.
Walking over to the restaurant I find the area to be strangely quiet. Tumbleweeds dance across the way with hawks squawking above the only sound.
“Bull looks like shit today, what is up?” Bobby asks, walking beside me. Aside from his tattoos you wouldn’t guess he was in a dangerous motorcycle club. He looks like a model of some kind.
“I think he’s trying to kick drinking.”
Bobby grabs my shoulder, stopping me.
“No shit? Are you sure?” Bobby’s face looks sympathetic and caring.
I shrug. “Yeah, he said it himself.”
Bobby runs a tattooed hand through his hair. “Man, that’s great fucking news. Of course it has to be right in the middle of this shit though.” He pauses, looking me over. “It must be because of you,” he says it like he’s unsure, and I freeze where I stand.
“Me?” I point to myself.
“I see the way he looks at you, and if you haven’t then you don’t deserve the lengths he’s going for you,” he so boldly puts it.
I look away, not sure what to make of his reaction. Noticing my unease, Bobby chuckles. “Anyway, it’s just been a hell of a few years is all. To know that the man I look to as a father is getting back to what he does best, well it’s the best damn news I’ve heard in a long time.” Bobby gives a laid back shrug, a cute smile tugging at his lips that makes me smile with him.
I continue toward the restaurant. “Yeah, well if we don’t get some liquids in him, he’s going to get a lot worse. Dehydration will take you out quicker than you know in these parts.”
Now that we’re talking, questions over the colors, or vest, whatever it is arise.
“What’s with the leather vests?” I ask, pointing to his. I thought it was just something they just wore, but Bull was very adamant I wore his when leaving. “Do they stand for something?”
“It is an honor to wear one, our club has respect from all over. You wearing one will keep you safer than you know,” he explains. “If someone disrespects you wearing that, then they will have hell to pay.”
I furrow my brows. “What does Road Captain mean?”
He looks down at his patch. “It means I’m the one that helps the boys get to where they’re going. I navigate and shit.”
I laugh at his terminology.
Stepping inside the restaurant, the smell of grease and coffee greet us. My stomach growls reminding me I haven’t eaten today. Jose lights up when he sees me and bustles around the corner in a hurry. Then his eyes fall on Bobby and flares with lust.
“Hey, baby girl!” he beams in a cheerful demeanor, his eyes flickering between Bobby and myself.
“Hey, Jose,” I respond and give him a hug.
“I heard some serious stuff went down last night. I was worried sick when I went to your room and you weren’t there,” he states, his voice thick with emotion as he clutches his chest dramatically.
Lowering my head I take a deep breath, glancing at Bobby. “Yeah, some stuff did happen. The Devil’s Dust is looking out for me though,” I explain, which I find kind of strange now that I say it out loud. Why are they looking out for me?
I shake my head, not wanting to overthink it. If they’re a safe haven out of here, I’m fine with whatever his motives are.
“Is there any way I can get some bottles of water, maybe some chicken noodle soup and bread to go?” I ask softly. Hoping I have enough tip money to pay for it all.
Jose’s arms stretch out and grasp my upper arms. “You alright? You sick?” He sounds so much like a parent it’s hard for me not to roll my eyes.
“Their president,” I jut my head toward Bobby who is looking over the billboard of missing persons located by the door. “You know the one you were so into the other day until you ran like a little bitch when things got heated?”
“You are much tougher than me and you know it,” he purses his lips and I can’t help but laugh. I swear he’s more female than I. “So is he sick? How is he going to protect you if he’s sick?” Jose questions, his voice high in skepticism.
“He’s just a little dehydrated,” I continue, not giving all the details. Last thing I need is Alvaro getting wind that Bull is down. Not that I think Jose will tell him that info, but if Alvaro is watching me he might come over here and give Jose a hard time. I don’t want to put him in a tough spot.
Jose twists his lips, not fully convinced. “Alright, I’ll go get it,” he replies turning on his heel. That’s just like him though, he’s always one to help someone. One time a lady and kid came in here and didn’t have enough money to buy themselves two burgers, so they would have had to split one. Jose and I put our tips together and bought them two meals. Him and I ended up splitting dinner that night because we didn’t have enough, but it was worth it.
The feeling of doing a good deed is a limited high that everyone should experience more than they probably do. I’d like to think I’m helping Bull because I’m a good person, and not because I’m praying he’s my ride out of here.
After retrieving the goods, which Jose said was on the house after he winked at Bobby, I was escorted back to Bull’s room. Alvaro is nowhere in sight, it both frightens me and makes me feel at ease.
He’s not here to retaliate, but there’s always the quiet before the storm and it’s fucking silent.
Going into the room I find Bull’s asleep on the bed, sprawled out on his back.
Sleep is probably the best for him right now, he’s going through the worst of the withdrawal right now, so sleep will definitely help him get through it faster. I remember when that balloon burst in my stomach and I had withdrawals. With the quantity of drugs in my system my body had to come down from the high at some point, and when it did it was terrible. I went nuts, and didn’t know who I was anymore. All I wanted was more, it felt good not to feel anything. To get lost out of the reality of my situation. Alvaro offered me more drugs to shut me up and get me to work, but I refused. Even though my body craved it, my mind told me I didn’t need it, so I toughed it out.
I set the food and water on the table, and turn the TV on.
A horror movie is on; a talking doll with a knife. It’s the scariest thing I’ve ever seen; yet I can’t look away.
Hours go by and I’ve watched three of them back to back, and can’t believe Americans watch this stuff. Then again, I’m completely intrigued by such creativity.
Curled up in my seat, my arms wrapped around my legs I cringe every time the doll strikes.
Bull groans, making me squeal in terror. Grabbing the remote, I turn the TV down and look over at him.
He’s tossing and groaning in his sleep like he’s in pain. Standing, I scratch the back of my head, not sure what to do. Do I wake him? Get Bobby?
Glancing at the TV there’s a close up of the doll laughing with a bloody knife. Jesus that thing is psycho. I swallow, and slide onto the bed a little more than scared. Why did I watch this shit?
My knees press into the mattress as I poke at Bull’s sweaty bicep. It’s like touching rock it’s so hard and firm. He must work out, or do enough criminal activity it keeps him in shape.
“Bull?” I whisper. His eyes flutter open, half asleep, his body shivering.
I open my mouth to speak and before I can, his large arm swoops out and pulls me into him.
My face goes blank, and my heart falls into my stomach.
My body is tucked into his tightly, his arms draped around me heavily. His body is hot and sweaty, the smell of him assaulting the idea of resisting his not so subtle request at cuddling.
I push at his arms that are crisscrossed in front of me, but he doesn’t budge.
“Just… just lay with me Little Bee,” he pleads into the back of my head. His breath heavy and hot against my scalp. Something hard and firm presses into my lower back and my breathing goes ragged knowing exactly what it is.
I stop, and inhale a large breath. Everything that is Bull filling my lungs. The feel of him behind me feels so good, I don’t argue with lying with him.
I didn’t realize how bad I was starving for a man’s touch until Bull wrapped his arms around me, his hard-on pressing into the back of me.
I want to be that woman that has enough respect and self-control to be able to lay here and nothing else, but if Bull makes a move… I don’t think I will be able to resist.
Strong hands slide up my frame, startling me awake. The TV showing nothing but static and painting the room in shadows.
My head falls back as dexterous palms slide up my shirt and grab my breasts like they’re a lifeline, pulling my body closer. Hard warmth presses against my back, inviting me. Bull groans in the crook of my neck and my mouth parts with a lustful moan. His lips skim along the sensitive skin of my neck, his breath hot and sticky.
My body awakes instantly, my wetness aching and needing more. The infatuation growing from a bud into something full grown and out of control.
Bull cups my collarbone possessively with one hand, the other trailing downwards. The movement agonizingly slow. When fingers dip below my panty line my legs part involuntarily, inviting him in. But he doesn’t go any further, in fact he retracts his hand and my skin instantly cools with disappointment.
He shifts in one quick movement and hovers above me. His dark hair falling in his face, a wolfish grin in place. He looks to be in a better state already, he’s not pale and clammy looking anymore. His eyes aren’t faded but bright and shining with passion, and looking right at me with sinful intentions.
My belly fills with butterflies as he dips his hips in between my legs, his excitement pressing against my shorts eagerly. My head lolls back, falling into the pillow. The contact fueling my body with an electric current like I’ve never felt before. You can’t deny the attraction between Bull and I.
I’ve had sex before with Alvaro, but I’ve felt nothing like this before. The way my body feels like it’s flying and falling at the same time. I don’t know whether to be excited, or scared to death.
My heart is beating so fast I can barely breathe.
My panties are so wet they’re sticking to me uncomfortably.
Lowering his head, his lips brush against my own, his eyes never leaving mine. They speak a thousand words, telling me the kind of man Bull is without saying anything. Dangerous. Controlling. Powerful.
I don’t trust anyone, and I shouldn’t trust him. Yet, I can’t find the strength to push him away.
I want him. God, do I want him.
But I’m scared that Bull is going to unintentionally give me a piece of fairytale I’ve been chasing my whole life when it means nothing to him. A romance ripped from the pages of a book that every woman hopes for. To be rescued and loved like she’s the only girl in the world.
Lifting my head, I press my lips to his, the feel of hard mouth against mine warm and starving. They are everything I imagined them to be. Fitting mine like a missing puzzle piece found its place in a canvas of color. My body coming alive in places I never knew were possible by a simple kiss.
It’s then that I know I’d rather have this one night, than to have never had it at all.
He sucks in a breath through his nostrils, his eyes clenched shut as he takes me in.
I want to close my eyes and get lost in the moment, but I can’t. I’m afraid if I do when I open them this will all be a dream.
His tongue slips in-between my lips, tasting me and taking me without hesitation. My body sways toward him, wanting him
to kiss me harder.
His skillful mouth making me forget everything bad that has ever happened to me, kissing it all better.
He grips my right tit, grinding against me just right. A whimper spills from my mouth as my body goes languid in his hold. The feel of pleasure pulsing between my legs as he gyrates against me.
I can’t help the swirl of my hips against his, needing more than he’s giving.
“How old are you,” he growls against my lips. I shift underneath him, pulling my face away from his.
“Why?” I whisper, curious why it matters. Age doesn’t define anything.
“Because I need to make sure I’m not about to fuck a kid,” he answers with more energy than I pegged him for.
“I’m twenty-one,” I reply nervously. Now that he knows how young I am will he push me away? He doesn’t budge, his green eyes looking right at me, but not giving anything away.
“How old are you?” I ask, tilting my head to the side.
“Old enough,” he growls against my lips, taking my mouth eagerly.
He slides his hand in between us, pushing down and pulling my wet lips apart. I freeze, my eyes finding his. Fear makes my pulse drum in my ears, lust fueling my desire for this man.
Holding his gaze he dips the pad of his finger in my wetness, and my mouth hangs open. A state of euphoria taking over my face.
Leisurely he slips it inside of me. His finger seeming a lot bigger as it fills me, stretching me. He crooks his finger and my body loses its strength, causing me to fall onto the mattress in a bundle of nerves and tingles.
He swipes his finger once more and my toes curl, a moan flowing out of me like I’ve never heard.
He hangs his head as if he’s battling with himself, and pulls his hand away from my heat.
“What? What is it?” I ask out of breath.
“You, that’s what it is,” he replies, lifting his head. “I left my world to escape what I was living with every day. Looking for something to make me forget what I once lost,” he replies, his voice thick with arousal. “You’re going to kill me without having to put a gun to my head, baby.” He pats my sensitive pussy. “Especially if this gets any sweeter.”
