by Jax Hart
“No, it’s just I’m juggling too much... school, running a business and being a caregiver for my dad.”
“That is exactly why you need me. You need me to help you unwind… ”
“Uh-huh. Thanks, Spence, but I can’t. I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay. I recognize a brush off when I hear one. God knows I give it to women all the time. See you in class?”
“Definitely,” I giggle hanging up.
Maybe he would’ve had a chance if the big, bad wolf hadn’t come into town and cast a spell on me.
My phone pings with a text:
Duke: Sorry cherry, got held up.
Me: How did you get my number?
Duke: You doubting my ways? Your phone was in your pants. A place I’m good at getting into.
Me: Not anymore.
Duke: I’m already there... in your mind.
I slam Tina’s car door shut and press the gas, he’s right. It’s all I can think about. I don’t want to be a virgin anymore. I want to be Duke’s and I don’t want to wait seven months to feel his pounding cock claim me. With a grin, I think about surprising him wearing nothing but a silk teddy and cowboy boots. Hell, I’d drive all night just to make him drool.
THE DAMN ATTORNEY and realtor stole my time, precious time that I wanted to spend with my girl.
Pissed to all hell, I slap the steering wheel with my hand knowing I need to leave. I’ve been putting it off for far too long. But even though every time I’m with her it feels like the world stops.
It didn’t.
Now, I have to go back and face the shit-storm that brewed in my absence.
My truck races and swerves as I cut the wheel too hard, needing to get to her, to see her one last time before I go.
“Mother-fucker!”
Shanna trudges behind a push mower, even from this distance the sweat dripping down her face and back is evident and so is her fatigue. I see it in the tension of her back, the stiffness of her neck and the look in her eyes.
I cut the engine and jump out of the truck. “That’s it. I’m not having this.” The freshly cut grass clings to my boots as I step through it and turn off the mower.
“Never again, I’m putting my foot down on this. You’re running outta gas sweetheart. You can’t run everything.”
“The hell I can’t.”
Her chin lifts with eyes full of determination instead of defeat.
I grin, “Ah sugar; I know you can, but why? I’ll have a guy out here in five.”
“No.” She tries to maneuver the mower around me and re-start it, but the tip of my boot rests on the side; the weight of my leg on it too heavy for her to overcome.
“Must you fight me on everything, sugar?”
“Yes.”
“I told ya’. The two of you are a grease fire!”
Her father stands on the porch using the railing as a crutch.
I lift my leg off and charge him, “You fucking prick. Do you not see how hard she works? She’s gonna’ wear herself out. The bar, school, taking care of your ass and making her do all the housework? You’re a goddamn fool. At least I’ll treat her like a queen, not a frigging slave.”
“Do you want a piece of me boy?”
He throws his cane down at my feet, untucking a gun from his pants.
I laugh, not in the least afraid. I’ve battled in hell, an old man on death’s door, holding a gun in trembling hands doesn’t intimidate me.
“Duke?” She pleads, placing a hand on my arm. I shove her behind me just in case he accidentally pulls the trigger. “Go pack your shit.”
“WHAT?”
“You heard me, Shanna. Get inside and pack your shit. I’m not leaving you here, to be his goddamn workhorse any longer.” I turn to her old man, “I’m gonna’ fuckin’ kill ya’ for what you’re doing to her.”
Before he can even blink, my arm shoots out snatching the gun from his hands. I release the clip then empty the bullet from the chamber before tucking it into my pants.
“Don’t do this,” she whispers hugging me from behind. The feel of her small hands wrapped around my waist calms me down—but only a notch.
“I ain’t having this.”
“I can’t leave.”
“He’s right,” her old man sighs. “I’ve placed too much on your shoulders, baby girl and I didn’t even realize.”
“I’m fine,” she whispers.
“No, you aren’t.” I look at her over one shoulder, my eyes softening at my woman who’s both soft as silk but hard as steel at the same time.
I’ve never wanted her more.
“I’m not packing my shit.’”
“I know,” I sigh.
I take her hand and walk past her father into the house. I lead her straight to the kitchen and order her to sit. I un-tuck the gun and place it in a cupboard with the clip. “I haven’t fired a weapon since 2007 in Iraq, and I don’t plan on firing one again… anytime soon.”
“Duke… ”
“It’s okay. I’ll tell you about it one day, maybe when your belly is round and ripe with our first kid. But for now, I need you to take care of yourself… please. I know you need to be independent but can you just give me the lawn mowing?”
“Okay. But I’ll pay for it.”
“Dammit Shanna, just give an inch here.”
“I just did.”
I sigh, placing a tall glass of water on the table in front of her, “Drink.”
My eyes follow a trickle of sweat as it runs down between the valley of her breasts disappearing into her tank. I growl, crossing the kitchen in two strides and pull her chair back. I haul her over one shoulder and smack her ass, as I carry her upstairs and into her bathroom.
She’s still—frozen in shock as I peel her sweaty shirt over her head and lick the rivulets of sweat between her breasts with my tongue. “You didn’t think I was just gonna’ leave, did ya’ cherry?”
“Duke,” she breathes as my fingers dip into her shorts, teasing her as they rub lightly over her clit.
Her hips circle and push against my fingers seeking more contact.
I pull my hand out and lick my fingers.
I step back, ripping her shorts off and burying my nose in her curls, inhaling her musky scent. My dick’s so hard, it’s going to poke right through my jeans.
“Christ,” I mutter undoing my belt and zipper, letting my beast spring free. I pump into my own hands, while my mouth eats her whole, sucking on her clit. I clamp down on her clit when I know she’s close. Taking my hand off my dick, I stick three fingers in her tight channel trying to find her G-spot. She moans before going limp and falling to the floor.
Her head is close to my cock, and before I can blink, I feel the sweet swipe of her tongue on my rim, before she tries to take me in her mouth. I’m so huge she can only suck the first four inches, but the sight of her ass sticking out in the air as she sucks me off makes my balls draw up tight.
I grab her hair with one hand and drink in the sight of her full breasts, heaving as they dangle in front of me. Her cherry tits are hidden, safely tucked into her bra… but not for long. My hands reach around her back and she moans as they swing free.
“Shanna, angel,” I grunt, pumping myself into her mouth. “We can do this now, or we can wait. What do you want sugar?”
“I want champagne and roses,” she replies pulling my dick out of her mouth with a pop.
“Ah, you deserve nothing less, my queen.”
“I know. But in the meantime—I’m gonna make you come so hard, you’re gonna see stars.”
She takes me back in. Her tongue swirls the head of my cock as she reaches down and cups my balls finding the sweet spot at the base. She presses down with her thumb. I see stars as my cock shudders and jerks before shooting my come out, spraying her breasts with it.
I tap my dick against her, as the last drops fall.
“I’m gonna miss you, sugar,” I rumble before kissing the top of her head.
We sit in sil
ence, catching our breaths before I reluctantly stand up and turn on the shower.
“I can’t stay. If I do, I’ll never leave.”
“I know.”
She cups the side of my face closing her eyes before tipping up on her toes and rubbing the side of her face against my beard. “I love you—Duke.”
My nostrils flare, my heart stops beating.
I can’t believe it.
I’m not that lucky. Could she really love me? We’ve barely scratched the surface; haven’t even begun baring our souls.
“Ah, sugar. It’s too soon. What you’re feelin’ is lust, sweetheart. It makes you do and say insane shit.”
“Do you doubt me? Think I’m too young to know what the fuck is in my heart?”
“Ah, shit. I don’t wanna fight cherry. I just want the words to be real when you say them to me.”
“Whatever, leave. We’re no good together unless we’re doing this.” She gestures between my cock and her pussy.
“Ah, cherry, don’t say that. We’re fuckin’ magic together; we just don’t have the time to learn each other, yet. But we will, I’ll call you.”
Before she can step into the shower, I haul her into my arms kissing her like I’m dying.
“Look at me.”
She refuses.
I grab her chin, forcing her, “I love you.”
“Arrghhh,” she yells, throwing the soap against the wall.
I grin and smack her sweet ass before leaving.
Good. I’m glad she’s all riled up. I’d rather see fire than tears in her eyes. I whistle as I walk down the stairs, knowing she’ll be alright.
“You fuck my daughter in my house?”
“No sir,” I reply.
“Huh,” he grunts. “You better not have. I still have my shotgun.”
I spin on my heel with one hand on the doorknob, “Take care of her Colin. I mean it, or they’ll be no peace for you.”
I walk out, leaving him gaping at my back. I fire- up my truck and head south towards home, but leave everything important behind.
Miles of evergreens and the lush woods hugging the rugged coast didn’t even register, as I barreled down the highway. Pieces of my heart broke off and scattered in the wind; leaving a trail for her to follow, but I know she won’t come. She’s too stubborn to admit she needs me, despite her confession she loves me.
She’s such a spitfire. God, I love it.
I sigh, sipping the crap truck stop coffee. The bright lights of San Francisco are on the horizon. It won’t be long until I pull into my shop on the outskirts of the city.
How in the hell am I going to wait? My hands already itch to touch her hair, my lips want hers back, and my dick never did get what he wanted.
Seven months is going to feel like a lifetime. But if there’s one thing I know how to do it’s survive hell and living without her for that long, will be hell.
I pull off the PCH and maneuver the side roads to my shop. It’s one in the morning. The automatic gates are locked up; my hand reaches through my open window punching in a code that causes it to swing wide.
My finger presses the fob on my keyring to open a garage bay and swing my truck around to unload my old man's Harley. It’s the only thing I took. As much as I hated him and my past—the bike is a symbol of my roots. I carefully unload it, wheeling it down a ramp and lock it up for the rest of the night.
My eyes sweep over the inside of an old warehouse that I turned into a booming business. It's spotless. My men might work with grease and oil all day, but I'm a stickler for keeping things orderly. There's not one drop of oil staining my painted cement floors, and all the tools are put away neatly. I grunt satisfied that no one slacked off in my absence.
I flick on the fluorescent lights and groan as I enter my office seeing the stacks of paperwork waiting my authorization, orders, contracts, and bills. I'm old-fashioned, preferring to mail shit out.
My phone pings:
Shanna: Your cherry misses you.
The cloud of fatigue I was in lifts. I grin, typing back:
Me: I miss sucking on my cherry.
Shanna: You back safe?
Me: Yeah, but I wish I was still with you.
Shanna: Me too.
Me: Good. I gotta catch up on work. 'Night cherry.
She doesn't respond, and I text Meat to make sure he follows her home from now on. I hate but admire that she works the late shift after studying or attending class all day. I shake my head riffling through the stacks. I boot up my old desktop and get lost tending to all the shit I put on the back burner for weeks.
"Thank god, you're finally back."
He thinks that he snuck up on me, but I saw Smith my right-hand-man, enter the building through the security monitors.
"I just got in about an hour ago, now I’m catching up on all this shit." I gesture to the stack of papers.
"The MC has some hot merchandise they want us to makeover.”
"Fuck. What did they get their hands on now?"
"They stole a shipment of high-end cars, Bentleys, Mercedes-Benz, and shit. They want to strip the VIN's and serial numbers and trick 'em out. They already have a buyer lined up in Mexico."
My seat creaks as I sit back contemplating my move. I've always done little favors, small shit just to keep them happy and off my back. They also don't target me or my business, generally leaving me alone.
Unlike, the rest of the shops by the beach, the club takes a cut off their profits every month, but what they want me to do is way over my comfort line. I just found Shanna; I'm not going to lose her like an idiot by going to jail for a motorcycle club that I've never pledged to.
The heel of my boot rests on the top of my desk, and I reach in the top draw finding my box of Marlboro Lights. Smith lights it for me before taking one for himself.
“What do you wanna’ do, boss?”
“We’re not going to do time for this shit.”
“I know. But the new Prez is off his rocker. They found body parts up in the Hollywood Hills last week, the medical examiner just ID’d them as belonging to the Reaper’s. They could only tell by the ink left. Nothing else was recognizable.”
“Christ.”
“That’s not all. They took a few of Cortez’s girls to be the club’s ‘new brides.’ ”
“Aw fuck. Shit, Smith. I wish you didn’t tell me that shit. I won’t tolerant violence against women… ever. Ah, fuck.”
I pick up my cell and text Zach, the new Prez of the LA Chapter of the club my father founded, feeling the heavy burden on my shoulders to stop this shit and make things right. My old man must be laughing his ass off at me, because even though I walked away from him and the club life—I’m still in it one way or the other.
Thank fuck, I didn’t bring Shanna back with me. My sweet angel would be in the cross hairs of this mess. No one can ever find out she’s my one weakness. I need to keep what she means to me—an absolute secret until I figure this shit out.
Me: Meet me tomorrow on the boardwalk by the pit.
Zach: 10 am.
I place my phone back on my desk snuffing the butt of my cigarette out on the bottom of my boot. I don’t trust this bastard at all.
The pit is the outdoor gym on Venice Beach, tomorrow at ten it will be packed with weightlifters and tourists. Even a crazy bastard like him wouldn’t dare try any shit there. Christ, it’s a drive for me to get there too. I better leave now. I can’t sleep anyway.
Placing a paperweight on top of the invoices, I log off my desktop. I need the quiet of my house in Malibu to calm me down and strategize. There’s no way I’m gonna let that fucker put my future in jeopardy with his illegal bullshit. I’m gonna find a way to rescue those girls and put an end to Zach’s favors once and for all. Shanna’s safety is paramount, and I won’t bring her here until it’s safer than a school zone.
Smith walks beside me as we head out. Each of us instinctively scan the lot for threats. Like me he served, but he was army. Our tra
ining to be alert has been engrained in us. It’s served me well on more than one occasion.
I’m on auto-pilot as I drive down the PCH passing Malibu. I custom built a fucking fortress, it’s not overly large, but my home is carved right into the rocky hills with a view of the Pacific. It’s nestled in a small gated community where a guard stands 24/7. If that wasn’t enough, I had my whole property fenced off complete with a heavy gate across my driveway. I like my fucking privacy, and I always felt uneasy dealing when handling “favors” for the club. It was always the plan to sell my shop up north and live here full-time. I just haven’t gotten around to it yet.
I only slept for three hours. I grip my coffee in one hand while watching the sun come up on the horizon, savoring the thick, rich flavor of the Costa Rican beans that I ground myself. The small things in life make me happy, and gourmet coffee is one of them.
The ocean stretches in front of me and the cold smell of morning fills the fall air. It’s a mix of dew and salt water with a tinge of chimney smoke. I breathe it in confident in my decision.
I’m no snitch, but I fought for this country—for freedom and the rule of law.
I can’t look the other way this time.
Maybe a few years back I would’ve. But now, all I want is to be a man worthy of Shanna’s love. I’m not a criminal; I’m a prince on a Harley. I’m gonna ride to rescue the Cortez girls, with the help of law enforcement.
I scan through my contacts and find her number. Even though I was a Marine, I’m still wary of some cops. Especially since around here, a few of them are on Creed or some other gang’s payroll. But I’ve known Christy for years, and I trust her. When we first met, I could tell she wanted to be more than friends, but I had just finished my last tour of duty and was in no place to be in a relationship especially with a good girl like her.
Her brother served, and when I met her jogging on the beach; we clicked. I fix her cars at no charge giving her tips whenever I hear shit on the street that needs telling. She’s a federal marshal now and making a name for herself.
“Duke? Where have you been, haven’t seen you in weeks? I almost filled out a missing person report on your ass.”
