by Jaci J
We fuck. We sleep. We fuck some more. And sometimes, we come up for air and food.
But I’ll be damned if I complain.
Right now, she’s sitting in the middle of my bed, a couple of books open in front of her, and a computer in her lap. We’re not fucking, we’re not sleeping, and we’re not eating. I’m not a happy motherfucker. She’s got glasses on and her head down.
“Baby?”
Her head comes up, but her eyes stay on her computer. Her hair’s a goddamn mess, in a knot on top of her head, and she’s got one of my dirty tees on, nothing else. She’s been living in it.
“Bailey!”
“Yeah?” she snaps, finally looking up at me. “What?”
“Don’t ‘what’ me, baby. Get your ass off that bed and c’mere.”
She rolls those pretty brown eyes at me and focuses again on her computer, brushing me off. She’s been on that fucking thing all damn day, working hard, and as much as that shit impresses the hell out of me, it also annoys the hell out of me.
“I’m busy, T.”
“Busy ignoring me.”
She hasn’t been to work in a few days, hasn’t said a damn thing about it, and I’m damn happy she hasn’t. I’m not real interested in going rounds with her about it.
What she has been doing is studying.
“T,” she groans, looking at me, her head cocked. “I’m trying to get this paper done.”
“And I’m trying to spend some time with you outside of this bed.”
A smile touches her pretty lying lips. “Yeah?”
“Yeah, baby. Taking your sexy ass to dinner.”
That does it. She shuts the computer and gets on her knees, crawling to the edge of the bed. “Not at McDonald’s, right?”
“Too good for a Big Mac?”
“When I’ve spent the last few days sucking your dick and riding it too, then yes. I think I deserve something more than McDonalds.”
Crazy bitch.
“What do you want?” I growl, grabbing her ass up and turning her over, putting her on her knees at the edge of the bed.
“What are you doing?” she cries, looking at me from over her shoulder.
It’s pretty goddamn obvious.
Pushing my tee that she’s wearing up and over her ass, I expose her naked skin. “What the fuck does it look like I’m doing?”
“I haven’t showered. I’m gross.”
Doesn’t make a fucking difference to me. “Baby, I want your pussy dirty, clean, or on the rag. I’m tough, I can handle it however you give it to me.”
She laughs softly, embarrassed. “Still.”
Grunting, I spank her ass hard, making her yelp. “Jesus, I get it. You’ll take it however I give it.”
“Doll, I take it whether you give it or not.”
“That’s not very nice,” she whispers, groaning when I run my hand between her legs. “Taking things that aren’t yours.”
“How many fucking times I gotta tell you that this is mine?” Spreading her pussy lips, I slide my fingers into her wet cunt.
Her head falls onto her arms on the bed.
“You still wanna argue about who you belong to?” I ask, teasing her clit, circling it with my fingers, making her twitch.
“No,” she moans when I rip open the fly of my jeans and jerk out my cock, sliding myself into her.
“You fucking sure?”
“Ahhh…”
“Answer me, baby.”
Pumping into her, I smirk, loving the way she moans, pushing back against me, silently begging me for more, for me to go deeper.
“Yes, T. Yes.”
“Good.”
I fuck her hard, fuck her until she’s begging me to let her come.
BAILEY
“Where do you want to go?” T asks me, taking my hand and helping me onto the back of his bike.
I know he’s expecting me to suggest something overpriced and underwhelming. Some fancy steakhouse or expensive Italian restaurant. But tonight, I want easy. I want simple. I just want to be with him.
Sliding onto the back of his big black Harley, I lean in, wrapping my arms around his waist, my hands resting on his thighs.
It’s become a routine, being on the back of his bike.
As soon as I touch him, I feel the muscles in his stomach flex, and I love it.
I affect him.
Pressing myself against his back, I put my chin on his shoulder. “Where do you think I want to go?” I ask sweetly, my lips touching the shell of his ear.
“Back to bed,” he chuckles, reaching back and squeezing my thigh playfully.
“Unless your bed has burgers in it, then I want Big Willies.”
“Big Willies? That shithole?”
I nod.
“You want to put that greasy ass garbage in your body, Doll?”
“Yes. I want a burger, fries, and a milkshake.”
“You sure?”
“And cheese sticks.”
T chuckles.
Letting my leg go, he fires up his bike and gives it some gas, the bike rumbling to life. The vibration hits me straight between my legs, making me shiver and T laugh louder. “Make your pussy wet?”
“No. It’s more the guy on the bike than the actual bike,” I say loudly, hiding my smile behind his back.
“You hitting on me? Trying to get in my pants?”
“Just trying to get a cheeseburger.”
“What about your cheese sticks?”
“I want those too.”
T shakes his head, still laughing. “Whatever the fuck you want, baby.”
Kicking the kickstand up, we pull out of his driveway and onto his quiet street, his bike the only noise I can hear.
Being on the back of T’s bike makes my heart beat faster and my blood run hotter.
It’s exhilarating.
It’s exciting.
Being on T’s bike gives me a fucking rush.
“You keep wiggling around back there, tits and cunt pressed against my back, I’m gonna dump this fucker and kill us both.”
“What a way to die.”
_______________
At a table in the corner, T sits across from me, one arm tossed over the chair next to him and a beer in his other hand. He’s watching me eat, and I’m not shy about it. I enjoy food too much to hide my ravenous appetite from him.
“Good?” he asks, a brow raised.
“So good,” I moan, my mouth full.
“Yeah? Moan like that again, baby.”
And I do.
“That’s what it sounds like when you’re sucking my dick.”
I laugh. I can’t help it.
A devilish little smile tugs at the corner of his perfect lips. It makes my stomach tighten.
Jesus, he really is handsome. A strong jaw covered in stubble, ocean blue eyes, and a dimple. Dirty blonde hair. A strong and solid body covered in muscles and tattoos.
It makes sense that the girls at the table across from us keep staring at him, whispering and nodding in his direction. He’s overwhelming. He’s a menacing presence, both physically and mentally. He’s hard not to look at, and that cut doesn’t help.
“How’s school going? You got, what, six months left?” The question catches me off-guard.
Mid-bite, I stop, a cheese stick inches from my mouth and say, “You remember that?”
“Remember what? Everything you tell me? Then yeah, Doll Face, I fucking remember.”
“Oh.” I don’t know what to say. He remembers something I told him over eight months ago. Not only did he remember, but he calculated back to when I told him and knew that at this point I’d have six months left.
I’m fucking shocked.
I’m not used to men listening or giving a shit about what I have to say.
“You think I forget shit you tell me? Bailey, you had me hanging off every goddamn thing that left that pretty mouth of yours, always hoping for a little bit more. I was a starving man.”
“I just ca
n’t believe you remembered.”
“You gonna answer my question, or just sit there staring at me?”
“I’ve got this quarter, and then the next, and hopefully I’ll be done.”
T nods, drinking his beer. “What do you want to do when you’re done?”
“Open my own business.”
“What kind?”
Shrugging, I stuff the cheese stick into my mouth, chewing thoughtfully.
I have no fucking answer, other than not to be poor.
“You not gonna answer this question either? Why? You trying to get into porn? Because if that’s the case, then it looks like I’m getting into it too,” he chuckles, and the gruff sound instantly puts me at ease.
I laugh. “I’m not sure yet.”
He nods. “You’ve got time to decide.”
Not much.
“Finish eating, baby. When you’re done, we’ll ride to your place and get you some more clothes.”
27
T
“BAILEY.”
I stop, catching her wrist with my hand, stopping her from taking any more steps.
Something about her house is off.
We rode up here for more of her shit, and something didn’t feel right the moment we pulled up out front.
Stopping, Bailey looks at her house, and then back at my hand around hers. “What?”
I look down at her, into her eyes, hoping like hell she understands. “You turn your bedroom light on after I turned it off the other night?”
“What?” she snorts, trying to walk away.
Not fucking happening.
“Hold up, baby. Something isn’t right,” I tell her, putting her ass on my bike. “I turned that light off before we left.”
Bailey looks up at the window. “Maybe you didn’t.”
“I know I did.”
I’m a lot of things, but forgetful ain’t one of them.
Pulling my phone from my pocket, I dial Rock.
“Yeah?”
“Head down to Bailey’s. Something’s up.”
“Yeah.”
He hangs up and I call Poncho next.
They’re here in fifteen minutes.
“The fuck’s goin’ on?” Rock asks, getting off his bike and walking toward me.
Standing on the other side of the street, I stare up at her house, watching and waiting.
“Left here the other night and I turned all the lights off.”
We’re standing in the street, the neighborhood dead around us.
He nods, turning to look at the house. “Yeah, see the problem. You go in yet?”
“Can’t take her in, and I can’t leave her out here.”
“You think they’re still in there?” Poncho asks, getting out of the cage I asked him to bring.
“Not sure. That’s why I didn’t just haul ass back to the club.”
Looking over my shoulder, I jerk my chin at the truck. “Get in the truck, Doll.” I look at Poncho. “Stay with her, yeah?”
Bailey doesn’t argue, and I thank fuck for that.
“Got it.”
Walking into the house, Rock at my back, I look around. Everything looks in place. But the farther we walk, the less in place shit starts to look.
The whole goddamn house is upturned.
Her couch is tipped. Pillows everywhere. Pictures smashed on the floor.
Her kitchen has been sacked, drawers pulled, shelves emptied, fridge cleared.
“Fuck.”
Rock walks into the kitchen, picking up a box of cereal from the counter. “Damn, they even went through food. The fuck they lookin’ for?”
I shake my head.
I don’t think they were looking for shit.
This is revenge.
This is to scare Bailey.
This is to get my attention.
The upstairs is just as fucked. Shit everywhere. Clothes, shoes, mattress, shit from shelves.
Rock follows me through the place, looking through rooms and in closets.
“What do you think?” Walking out of the bathroom, he stops at the top of her stairs.
“The Russians.”
_______________
“T,” Bailey gasps, her hand finding my arm. “Oh my God.”
I watch her spin around, her eyes wide, taking in her place.
“Fuck. I’m sorry, baby,” I tell her, looking around at what she’s seeing. I didn’t touch a goddamn thing, too worried about getting her shit and getting her back to the club.
Picking up a sweater from the floor, she shakes her head, her jaw clenched. “What happened?”
I look at Rock.
He looks at me.
I lie. It’s the only thing I can do right now. “I don’t know, Doll.”
Bailey looks at me, dropping the sweater onto the floor. “Seriously?”
“Seriously.”
“First, I get pulled aside at that party, then roughed up at work, and now this? Want to know what all those things have in common? You. This is why I keep saying all that bullshit you hate,” she growls, unloading on me.
Fucking Christ.
She’s not wrong. This is my fault, but fuck. How do I tell her that and not have her run in the opposite direction when that’d be the worst goddamn thing she could do right now?
I need her close.
I need her where I can see her.
I need her where I can fucking touch her.
“I’ll fix it.”
“Like you fixed it last time,” she tosses back, crossing her arms, defensive.
“This isn’t shit you need to worry about.”
“No? Then why the hell are we standing in my house, where my shit is ruined? I shouldn’t worry about it, you say?”
“Because you need to fucking trust me.”
Bailey
The club is busier tonight than it has been the last few nights.
Not a party, but definitely not just another night.
A row of bikes sits out front when we pull in. T parks at the end and cuts the engine before getting off. Taking my hand, he tries to help me off, but I refuse, still mad.
I don’t even know what I’m mad about anymore.
The house?
My job?
T’s involvement?
My life?
Money?
It’s only stuff. It’s only a job. It’s only my life.
Everything I want flashes before my eyes.
I’m scared. Scared to go back to that trailer park. Scared to lose T.
I only make it a few feet away before he catches me.
“You can be mad at me, baby,” he tells me, pushing me back against the side of the club. “You can refuse my help. You can throw a fucking fit. But what you’re not gonna do is pretend like I won’t fix this, yeah? You fucking know I will, you just gotta trust me.”
Trust. Something I don’t have a lot of.
“Fix what? My house? Get me my job back? My sanity?”
“You want me down there at The Pink Cat, on my knees, begging for your job back?”
The idea makes my stomach roll.
T doesn’t beg. He doesn’t plead. He doesn’t even ask nicely. The thought of him on his knees anywhere but between my legs makes me shake my head and my mouth move, “No.” Even I know it won’t work, and honestly, I don’t want that job back, not after everything.
“Then what the fuck do you want? An apology? You wanna hear that I’m sorry I came into your life and got you caught in the middle of my shit? Because you’re not gonna hear it.”
“Are you?”
Those icy blue eyes harden and he laughs, the emotion not real. “No.”
“Then what would be the fucking point?” I ask, pushing T away from me. I don’t expect him to move, but he does. Tearing his hands away from either side of my face, he growls, cursing under his breath, his hands instantly running through his buzzed hair.
“Fuck!”
He does something I never expected him to do.
He leaves me outside.
Alone.
_______________
I found my way to his room, the door unlocked and the bed still unmade. On the floor are a pair of my panties and one of his T-shirts, boots, and a pair of my heels.
The room looks like it did when we left hours ago.
Only this time, the room isn’t filled with hot sex and loud laughter. It’s not filled with T’s loud voice and my fucking attitude.
It’s full of silence.
T’s not in here with me, and it feels empty.
My chest hurts.
Everything fucking hurts.
Pulling off my clothes, I leave them on the floor with the rest of the discarded pieces, and I crawl into a hot shower, desperate to wash the trailer park and T off of me.
Both are part of me, engrained in my DNA, marrow deep.
Water and soap do nothing to fucking help that.
I stand in the shower until the water runs cold.
Dressing in a white tee and black sweats, I stand in the middle of the room, looking at myself in the old mirror hanging lopsided on the wall.
No make-up.
No hair.
No wall around me.
No T.
I don’t know who I am anymore.
I don’t know what I want anymore.
I knew, I knew if I could just make enough money, have enough stuff, I’d be okay. Sitting in that trailer, alone and hungry, I fucking knew it. I knew I needed everything I didn’t have then. Now? I know nothing. All that stuff, the money, the house, the cars, the status, the independence, none of it seems to mean a goddamn thing anymore. My house is trashed. My income is drying up. My independence is waning. I feel none of the anxiety and worry, none of the panic and need I felt as a scared little girl.
I’m hanging on to what I used to want because I’m too scared to let it go, the little girl in me clinging to it for dear life.
I feel everything I never felt as a kid in that trailer park.
The love. The happiness. The excitement. The trust.
All I feel is T.
Barefoot, I walk through the wet lot toward the club, looking for him. Uninvited, I walk in. The room full. The music loud, the voices louder.
I see no one but T.
Sitting on a couch, a beer in one hand and a woman in the other, I feel an emotion I never thought I would—jealously.
I’m T’s.
T’s mine.
28
