The room is crowded and busy. People are jostling around us making their way to the bar and returning with plates laden with food. Automatically, I move Beth out of the way when a brother steps back and nearly bumps into her.
For the first time in my life, I don’t know what to say. I know how to fuck, but not how to speak to a bitch. If she asks me why I chased the others off, what could I tell her? My mouth has gone dry, and I swallow, trying to find some justification for sending my brothers away. Christ, I may as well have peed on her. All I can think to express is, Let’s go fuck.
But she’s different today. Last week, it had been clear what was on her mind, today she looks nervous, unsure. Like the little girl I’d come to know her for, not the put-it-all-out-there woman who had brazenly approached. Suddenly it’s me who’s uncertain. Would she even want a repeat if I made the suggestion?
Could she be thinking, been there, done that? Would she prefer me to step away? Would she really have liked to see what Sparky or Judge could offer? It dawns on me I don’t like it when the tables are turned.
As her mouth opens, I only need to incline my head slightly to hear her words.
“I, er, I was just going to get some food.”
Food. Fill a plate, find a table. Sit down and talk. Conversation with a bitch? Not what I normally do. I know fuck all about girly shit and stuff she’d probably want to talk about. I don’t watch TV apart from the odd game or that show where they customise motorcycles. I glance at her again, noticing she’s not meeting my eyes, and she’s shifting from one foot to the other.
I could shrug, walk away, leave her to her own devices. “Sure, let’s fill a couple of plates,” I find myself saying, telling my cock it will have to behave while I feed a different appetite instead. She’s here for a birthday party, fuckface.
The old ladies have done us justice. Before Vi, Jay, and Steph came along, the sweet butts reluctantly prepared food under the direction of Jeannie. Now Steph and Vi have taken charge of the kitchen, the quality of what they make has definitely taken an upturn. Add in Mel and her offering of cakes and desserts and we’re set. Of course, the women don’t spend all their time cooking for us men, even we’re not as cavemen as to expect that. But on a day like today, they’ve gone to town.
I grab a few items then look around, most people are eating standing around the laden bar-top as though not wanting to step away and miss anything. So there are a couple of tables empty. Pointing out one and signalling my intention with a jerk of my head, I’m pleased when Beth steps in line behind me.
We sit, and for a moment all we do is stuff our faces. What can I say? This is good shit and eating it hides that neither of us seem to know how to kick off a conversation.
“You work with Mel?” I say lamely, once my plate is clean. I already know that.
“I do.” She smiles. “And do you work?”
She clearly doesn’t know much about the club. “I do.” I throw her simple reply back at her. But rather than letting the conversation run dry, I give her more. “I work at our auto-shop. All the brothers have jobs. It’s not all riding around and having fun.”
“Is your shop busy?” she asks with genuine interest. “Don’t people worry about bikers working on their cars?”
“I’m an ex-Marine, Pyro and Mace are ex-Army. We learned our trade when we served.” Among other things, but no need to go into that. “Got all the certificates and qualifications. We do fuckin’ good work. Many of our customers are regulars and wouldn’t go anywhere else. Got enough going on, we employ civilians as well.” We’ve got a good reputation which we deserve. As she looks interested, I continue, “As for bikes, doesn’t matter whether men wear a cut or not. There’s nothing a man with a motorcycle likes more than chatting with like-minded folks. We get people riding out just to talk about customisation and shit like that. Even get a few come down regularly from Denver and other surrounding towns and cities.”
She nods, and it would appear she’s impressed. “You live here? At the club?”
I jerk my chin in an upward direction. “Yeah, I’ve got a room here. Most brothers have. Well, Hell, Bomber, and Buzz have lived in town for years, Demon moved out a year back, and now Beef and Steph have got a house too. And of course, Pyro and Mel, but you know that. The rest of us live here.”
“I live with my mom.” Without me asking for an explanation, she tells me why. “It’s cheap and convenient. Oh, I pay rent, but not as much as I would with my own place.”
“You must get on well with your mom.”
“Yes.” She grins. “She’s just turned fifty but looks much younger, people often think we’re sisters. She’s got a young outlook on life. She’s also become a good seamstress over the years, so she can do my clothes. She’s branched out and made it into a small business.”
My eyes crease. “Clothes?”
Her hand waves toward herself. “If you hadn’t noticed, I’m a bit taller than most girls. These skinny jeans are a man’s size and fit alright, but tops they make for big girls assume they’re large everywhere.” She indicates her breasts and holds her hands a few inches away from them. In doing so she draws my attention to her body, and I can’t help but focus on her tits. The memory of how they felt under my hands and mouth makes my cock start to misbehave once more. I try to focus on what she’s saying. “Mom alters tees and stuff that’s long enough but too wide. And some things she makes completely from scratch. She had to start altering my clothes when I started my growth spurt and didn’t stop, so she’s had plenty of practice.”
“How tall are you?”
“I was six-foot-one when I was twenty, I’m six-foot-one and three-quarters now I’ve reached twenty-seven.”
I almost spit out the mouthful of beer I’ve just taken. “You’re still growing?”
She gives a twisted grin. “It’s slowing down, hopefully stopped.”
An image comes into my mind and I spit out a mouthful of beer as I laugh.
“What?” Her brow furrows.
“I just thought of a scene from Alice in Wonderland.”
She rolls her eyes. “You mean the ‘drink me’ potion where she grows too big? I may have heard that before.”
I chuckle. “That’s it. Perhaps we can find you a magic mushroom to munch on to reverse the effects.”
“I wish we could,” she says, glumly.
Hmm. Have I hit a sore spot? “Do you mind being so tall?”
“Do you?”
I shrug. “It’s different for a man. I’d rather be tall than short, but I suspect it’s not the same for a girl.”
“You’re taller than most, though.”
My shoulders rise and fall for a second time. “I used to get asked if I was a basketball player, but that stopped when I started wearing a cut.”
“And what’s the weather like up there?” She chuckles.
We share a moment. Yeah, tall people can be the butt of many jokes. It’s almost a way to cut us down to size.
“I like you being tall,” I tell her, my mouth running without my brain being in control. “Nice not to get a crick in my neck or need to bend myself in two to fuck you.” I change the subject quickly before she can read too much into it. “So, sports. You do any?”
“I run.”
Yeah, she looks fairly athletic. I imagine her running around the block a couple of times when the weather is warm enough. “Often?” I ask, while trying to get the thought of her in tiny running shorts out of my head.
“Every day. Either outside or in the gym if the weather is against me. I like entering half-marathons.”
I eye her with a new respect. All the sweet butts ever do is sit around on their asses, the most energy they use outside of bed is doing their hair, donning their makeup or painting their nails. “Anything other than running?”
“That basketball joke?” I nod as it seems to be expected. “Well, yes, I was on a team at school for a while.”
My brow creases as it looks like a painful memory
. “What happened?”
“I sprouted early, so I was taller than the girls on most other teams.”
An ideal player in my opinion. “You get hurt?”
Her chin rises and falls. “But not in the way you’re thinking. I got more baskets than anyone else, and it was hard for anyone to take the ball from me. So, there was jealousy on my own team. Our opponents? They’d accuse us of cheating. Oh, not on the field, but in the locker rooms. I left the team.”
“You were bullied?”
“I was the odd one out. So, yeah. That’s when I learned it was better to try to hide, than be seen.”
Seems anyone who doesn’t fit the norm is fair game. Fuck, I know that as I wear my cut, but as an adult I can handle it. Not so much so for a kid. Boys tend to settle their fights with fists, girls use spiteful words. I wouldn’t be surprised if the latter caused more hurt. I reach over the table and squeeze her fingers, before drawing back my hand. While she’s with me, no one is going to be picking on her. If they do, they’ll have to answer to me. My sudden desire to be there to protect her is surprising.
Again, I move on to another topic. “Your mom okay with you coming here tonight?”
Once again, her eyes meet the ceiling before looking back. “I’m twenty-seven, Ink, not a kid. Wouldn’t matter if she did, but to answer you properly, no. She’s always respected Mel’s judgement. She was at the wedding. I don’t know if you remember?”
Probably not. I didn’t take much notice of citizen guests. Replaying her words in my head, I snort. “Seems like we’ve got to up our game if we’re becoming respectable.”
I’ve made her giggle. “I don’t know about that. People who don’t know you’re big softies are still scared when they see your motorcycles coming along the road.”
My eyebrows rise, and I lean in. “Softie? You reckon I’m soft?” There’s more than a hint of suggestion in what I’m saying.
She doesn’t miss it. She swallows, then those blue eyes land on me, focused and not looking anywhere else. “I thought you didn’t do repeats.”
I don’t, but I’m realising that for her, I might make an exception.
I’m trying to formulate an answer that won’t raise her expectations too far but would allow us to end this party with us both getting some satisfaction, when a shadow looms over me.
“Ink,” Mace’s unwelcome voice interrupts me just as I’m opening my mouth. “Got trouble at Tits Up. Few of us are riding out. Beef wants you along.”
My eyes close briefly as I sigh. “Sorry Beth,” I tell her, already getting to my feet. “Duty calls. If you’re still around when I return, we’ll continue this, er, conversation.”
The flare in her eyes shows she knows exactly where our discussion was leading, and the crestfallen look on her face must mimic my own disappointment.
Fuck.
“What is it?” I snap at Mace, once we’re headed to the bikes, earning myself a quick glance and a raised brow at my unusual impatience. Luckily for him, he leaves it alone.
“Looks like someone might be dealing behind the strip club. Beef thinks it might be the asshole who was mentioned in church. Need to see whether we can catch up with him.”
Chapter Seven
Beth
Bad timing or what? I stare after Ink’s retreating form, not missing the tension in his shoulders, his shortness with Mace signalling he’s not happy at being called away. I’m part relieved, part disappointed. After our conversation which I certainly hadn’t come here today expecting would take place, I thought Ink was going to ask me to go up to his room. I couldn’t have refused. Couldn’t, because this controlling man wakes something inside me. Shouldn’t, because to go back for a second time would surely be a mistake.
Damn him. Why had he come over and stolen me away when I’d been sharing light-hearted jokes with his friends? Why had he taken time to eat and talk with me? Surprisingly I’d enjoyed our conversation and liked what I’d learned about him. He’d been focused completely on me, not looking for an escape, or, until the final few minutes, making any suggestion we’d do more than use words. His good looks, his masculinity, are a dangerous combination. He’s exactly the man I’ve been looking for all my life and spending more time with him will only set me up for disappointment.
When the men had arrived back from their ride, Mel had become glued to Pyro’s side. I’d grinned, seeing she hadn’t had much choice in the matter, her husband’s arm kept her there as though he couldn’t bear to be away from her. She’d sent me an apologetic smile, but I waved her off. If it was a room full of strangers maybe I’d be more nervous of being left to my own devices, but surprisingly, after the wedding and reception last week, I feel as though I’m among friends. I’ve been greeted and said hello to by name by everyone who’s come close. Maybe it’s down to Vi’s approval, she’s certainly not held back in telling how much I’d helped get things ready.
So, I’d stood, sipping my soda, feeling relaxed simply soaking up the general vibe. Pyro was far from the only one to show his greed for the company of his woman. Paladin quickly seated himself with Jay on his lap, Demon held on to Vi as if afraid she could disappear any moment, and Beef and Steph were joined like Siamese twins. Even Hellfire and Mo looked like they’ve been parted for days rather than a few hours. Buzzard and Bomber had quickly commandeered the presence of their women. When these men love, they love hard. I couldn’t help but wonder what such devoted attention would feel like.
I was well aware I was a single woman stood in a room which, apart from the aforementioned, is packed with otherwise single men. Unless I find somewhere to sit, it’s impossible for me to disappear into the background. I wasn’t left alone with my thoughts for long, and I was grateful for the interruption, and a chance to take my mind off my envy of the happy couples.
Judge had made me laugh, Sparky trying to outdo him as they both related tales of the ride they’d just been on. At first, I listened in awe, then realised some of the embellishments were just too ridiculous to be believable. I was soon cracking up with some of the outlandish tales.
Neither man had been anything but gentlemanly. Though their closeness and the way their hands would brush my arms gave me the impression that I could have gone with either of them had I given the slightest indication that I wanted to. They’d made me feel attractive and desired.
But they hadn’t made any part of me tingle.
They weren’t Ink.
He knew I was here. Stupidly, I’d drawn attention to myself when I’d gotten carried away in the heat of the moment, or more accurately, by that kiss that Demon and Vi had shared. For a second, I’d wondered whether he was going to come over. He didn’t.
Move on girl, I’d lectured myself. If you want a biker, there’re plenty of others here.
But it’s not another biker I want. When I’d carried on talking to the two men, I knew words were the only thing we’d be sharing. Only half listening at times, I’d decided I’d stay long enough to be polite, then slip away. Seeing Ink so disinterested had been painful.
Until he’d stormed over.
His dismissal of Judge and Sparky had been abrupt, and for a moment I was stumped to find an explanation. The one that occurred to me seemed ridiculous, but I could think of no other. Could he be jealous of their attentions toward me?
The two bikers I’d been speaking to were pleasant but hadn’t stirred me at all. As soon as Ink stepped close, it had been different. His smell of leather and man was dissimilar to theirs in a way I couldn’t explain, and a delightful shiver had gone through me, as though my body had already been programmed to react to him. It wasn’t a welcome revelation. However much I’d tried to dismiss that night from my head, Ink had apparently gotten under my skin.
I’d been surprised when he’d approached, and nervous. Conscious of the mistake I’d probably be making if he offered and I’d gone with him again. It would just be sex, and a repeat of that amazing night would make moving on that much harder.
&nb
sp; While I could at least partly blame alcohol for what happened last week, it would compound my mistake to take up any offer made in the cold light of day and both of us completely sober. So rather than hear him make a suggestion I might find hard to resist, I’d fumbled my way through the insinuation my appetite was for food, and to my surprise, he’d allowed the distraction.
I hadn’t expected we’d talk, that he’d open up about what he did for the club, which in light of their reputation sounded boring, yet also, reassuring. He did a job he was trained for. He even asked a little about my life. Yes, we’d gone through some social niceties, and even made a few jokes. We hadn’t discussed what happened last week, well, not using words. The heat in his eyes, the flare in his cheeks, the answering flush on mine—our mouths might be saying one thing, our bodies another. Physical reactions didn’t lie. You turn me on, I’d signalled, I want you, came back.
I knew what he was going to suggest. However much I want to deny it, my answer would not have been a refusal.
I’m frustrated that he’s been called away, discreetly squeezing my thighs together in a vain attempt to ease the arousal which had been building while we’d been talking, knowing I won’t be getting any other relief now and trying to tell myself it’s all for the best.
“You okay, Beth? Sorry I’ve been ignoring you, but Pyro wanted me close and then I had to sort out more food. Christ, these bikers can eat.” Mel flops down in the chair Ink had so recently vacated.
“Hi Mel.” I give myself a little shake. So caught up in my thoughts, I hadn’t seen her approaching. “No worries. You’ve been stocking and restocking the plates. And there I’d been thinking you’d brought far too much with you.”
“Not enough,” she laughs. “We’ve almost run out.” Her breath huffs out as though she’s exhausted. She probably is, she’d been cooking all morning and then running around.
“As normal, Mel, you’ve outdone yourself.” I rub my stomach as if to show where some of her food went, and that her efforts hadn’t been wasted.
Satan’s Devils MC -Colorado Box Set: Books 4-6 Page 43
