Reaper

by K. L. Savage

  Fuck, this is going to take forever.

  “Tongue looks like he is in his element, while at the same time, out of his element because he seems so knowledgeable, but how does he know about fashion?”

  “No idea, Tool. There seems to be a lot about him we don’t know.”

  After an hour browsing the damn racks for every single dress, they make their way back and Tongue is carrying most of the stuff. I can’t help but smile when I see how ridiculous he looks. Shit, how ridiculous all of us look. He is over six-feet-four carrying slender dresses, and we are dressed in mostly black, sitting on pink fucking velvet.

  When did this become my life?

  “Alright, are you ready?” Tongue hangs the dresses up in the fitting room in front of us, and Sarah wraps her arms around her waist, looking a bit unsure or insecure. I can’t put my finger on it exactly, but she looks her age right now.

  We need to hype her up. I bet she feels like we don’t want to be here. Tongue takes a seat next to me and rubs his hands over the soft material of the couch. Since it is velvet, every time his hands glide over the material it looks shiny and then dull. “Oh, this is nice. We need one of these for the clubhouse,” he admires.

  “Can you imagine cleaning the cum stains off this?” Tool gripes.

  Sarah’s cheeks tint with a light pink blush when she overhears Tool’s foul mouth. I slap his chest, and the loud thud makes the snickers and immature chuckles die down. “Shut the hell up. We have a lady present. Apologize to her,” I demand.

  “I apologize, Sarah.” Tool bows his head, and Slingshot slaps the back of Tool’s head, calling him an idiot.

  “You going to give us all a show, so you know what we think about the dresses?” Jenkins asks, sitting on the arm of the couch at the very end.

  She rubs her hands together and toes the ground, not meeting my eyes or looking at any of us actually. I’ve never seen her so out of her element. “I don’t want to make you guys wait. I know all of you don’t want to be here. It’s okay.”

  “What?”

  “No way!”

  “Of course, we are interested!”

  “We have to approve it. Why do you think we are here?”

  “That’s just nonsense. We are excited for the runway show. I expect twirls and spins and poses. I’ll get my camera out.” Poodle digs into his pockets for his phone. “Shit, where is it?”

  All my guys are coming through like champs. They know they need to, or I’ll fucking kill them.

  “Left back pocket, ye shite,” Skirt grumbles, and his voice scares the shit out of me. I had no idea he was even here.

  “You better try on every single dress,” I say, and all the men agree, nodding and mumbling ‘hell yeah.’ The biggest smile graces her face and, damn it, if my heart doesn’t melt to see her that happy. That’s all she needs to feel confident again and not like a burden. I hope she never feels that way.

  “Okay,” she squeals, and the loud pitch makes me wince. Damn, she sounds like a teenage girl now, that’s for damn sure. “You guys have to be honest,” she points to all of us with her index finger.

  “Have ye met me?” Skirt chimes.

  “Honesty is the best policy,” Tool says next.

  “I swear it on Lady’s life.” Poodle crosses his heart.

  “Promise, sis.” Jenkins holds up his hands like he is surrendering, and everyone that didn’t say anything agrees.

  She claps her hands and does a little dance, looking so damn cute. I want to pick her up and swing her around and celebrate her joy, but I can’t. I never can. I can only support her happiness, and if that means spending all damn day at the mall while she tries on dresses, then that’s what it fucking means.

  “Okay, give me a few minutes.” She turns around and vanishes behind the pink curtain, sliding it shut so nothing can be seen. A few women go into the other dressing rooms, and some are giving us the look of invitation, especially the brunette at the end. She’s staring at Tool hard enough; he just might burst into flames.

  “Don’t mind if I do.” He goes to stand, and I grab his cut and yank him back down.

  “Don’t even fucking think about it,” I growl, making sure he hears the warning in my tone. “You aren’t disappointing Sarah over some pussy. You hear?”

  “Yes, Prez,” he relinquishes, slouching against the couch.

  Fucking headaches. Every last one of them.

  The lights above us shine against the curtain just right, showing a faint glimpse of Sarah’s shadow behind the veil. The outline of her body shows, giving me a slight tease of what she has been throwing at me.

  What I’ve been fucking dreaming about. Christ and now I see the shadows of her small tits and perk roundness of her ass. My cock plumps, and I have to look away.

  Only to see all the guys staring.

  “Eyes fucking off!” I slap the back of Tool’s head just like Slingshot did.

  “What the hell? Why am I getting hit on the back of the head?” Tools rubs the spot that’s getting abused, and I turn to Tongue to slap him, but he has a knife out, picking at his nails.

  “Tongue…” I pinch the bridge of my nose with frustration. “I told you not to bring a knife to the mall.”

  He holds out the blade and scoffs, “This isn’t a blade. It’s a Swiss Army knife. I’d hardly even call it a weapon.”

  “Tongue, put it away.”

  “I’m never allowed to do anything,” he pouts, and the sharp swift of the blade cutting through the air makes a mother and her small daughter scurry away faster as Tongue tucks it back in his pocket.

  “You’re going to get us kicked out of here, and she will be really upset. You fuckers can hold it together for a few hours.”

  Most of them mumble in agreement, and I cross my arms, waiting for Sarah to come out with the first dress. I never take my eyes off the shadow of her body again. It’s like watching a peepshow, only to never have the veil uncovered to reveal a naked body.

  Best friend’s daughter. Best friend’s daughter. Too young. I chant my new mantra. I might as well get it tattooed on me. I say it when I wake up, throughout the day, and before I go to sleep. Let’s not forget all the times I wake up in a puddle of my own cum.

  If she’s so forbidden, then why am I keeping an internal clock of the day she turns eighteen?

  “Are you ready?” she shouts from behind the curtain.

  A roar of cheers and claps sound to tell her we are, and when the curtains slide open to reveal the woman who drives me crazy, my heart stops. I can’t catch my breath. She’s stunning. In this moment, she isn’t Hawk’s daughter; she’s the sole desire of my attention.

  “Wow,” the men say in unison, staring her slack-jawed and stunned.

  I want to gouge their eyes out for looking at her, for seeing her look so classy, and for seeing the curves of her body that are meant for me.

  Fuck, I don’t mean to say that, but the dark part of me knows it is true.

  “I don’t like it,” Tongue chimes in, ruining the moment of silence we all took to appreciate her beauty.

  This time, I do slap him. “What the fuck? What’s wrong with it? She looks beautiful.”

  “You think I look beautiful?” She takes a step forward, grabbing the sides of the light bronze gown so she doesn’t trip over it.

  Fuck, she’s going to run with this compliment and torture me more. If I lie, it will only hurt her.

  “The color is all wrong for her skin tone.” Tongue stands up and rubs his fingers on his chin, then he strokes his beard as he analyzes the dress like some sort of expert. “The halter top”—he sighs—“I’m just not sure about it.”

  “Yeah, I thought so too,” she says. “It makes me feel—”

  “Like a child?” he finishes for her. I sit back, eyes wide, and I know the other men look the same because no way in fucking hell is this Tongue, the guy who makes it impossible for people to speak, the same guy who lurks in corners, the same guy who hardly speaks a word.
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  How is this the same man?

  “Yes,” she agrees.

  “Go change and throw this over. I’ll go put it back.”

  There’s that smile again. “Thank you, Tongue!” She jumps up and gives him a kiss on the cheek.

  My fingers rub against my jeans as my fists clench. Those are my kisses, but I can’t do anything about it. I can’t claim those kisses yet.

  A few minutes later, the dress is tossed over the top of the dressing room, and her beautiful body is on display again. Her shadows dance like an erotic movie, and I watch every single scene, so I don’t miss a thing.

  “Ready?”

  The sound of her voice brings me back to reality, and she steps out in a dark emerald green dress. It’s low cut, too low cut. It shows too much of her tits, and it clings tightly to her body. I march my way toward her and push her back in the room. “You aren’t wearing that.”

  “I thought it looked great.”

  I point toward Tongue, trying my best for my finger to look threatening. “Shut it.”

  “You didn’t like it?”

  “No,” I growl. Of course, I didn’t. It showed too much of what was mine. I want to buy it so when she is old enough, she can wear it for me. Then I can bend her over, lift the dress, and fuck her. I’ll come all over the gown, staining it, and ruining it so it can never be worn again. “Fuck!” I shout, rubbing my hands over my face. “Just change.”

  “Okay,” she whispers, and her big brown eyes well with water as she looks away. She looks so dejected.

  I place my finger under her chin and lift her face to look at me. “It isn’t because you don’t look stunning. You could wear a trash bag and make it look good. For once, don’t question me; just know I don’t want you wearing that dress.”

  “Okay, Jesse.”

  For once in her life she doesn’t argue with me, and I consider it a win. I take a deep breath and flop onto the couch, wishing it would swallow me hole.

  The next dress is the same as the last, and when I look at my watch, two hours have gone by. It isn’t because of the dresses not being perfect; it’s because I’ve said no to every single fucking one. She looks too beautiful, too innocent, too touch worthy, and I know those teenage assholes are going to try to get with her at the prom.

  I’ve been a teenage boy. I know what they want.

  And it isn’t to have a picnic at the park. We might say that to sweep you off your feet, but you better believe we are going to try to sweep you onto your back and fuck you if we have the chance. And honestly, boys grow into men, but we don’t change that much.

  “It’s the last dress, and I really like it, okay? Keep that in mind when I come out,” she says from behind the curtain.

  A faint snore comes from my side, and Tool has fallen asleep. I elbow him hard in the ribs, and he jolts forward, whipping out his screwdriver so fast it’s nothing but a blur. “What? Stay back! I’ll fuck you up, bitch.”

  “What? What did I do?” Sarah asks, her fingers curling around the curtain. She sounds scared.

  “Not you, doll,” I reassure her and slap Tool’s head again. “Get your shit together and put your Philip’s head away. We aren’t at war.”

  “Sorry, Prez. Bad dream.”

  “You were only asleep for two minutes.”

  “That’s all it takes, Prez,” Tongue says slowly in his Southern accent. The damn knife is back out.

  Fuck it. He can keep the damn thing out.

  “We are ready for you, Sarah.” I lower my voice so only the men can hear it. “She likes this one, so get your head in the game. I swear to god, you assholes can’t do anything a woman asks you to do, and it’s sad. All of you will be rotating duties at the clubhouse, and we will be talking about this in church.”

  The glide of the metal rings against the rod tell me she has opened the curtain. Everyone is looking at her but me because I have to keep these nitwits in line.

  “Wow,” Poodle says.

  I finally give Sarah my attention, and my world comes to a complete halt. Why does she have to be seventeen? Jesus Christ. I’ve never wanted a woman so bad in my life. She looks like something out of a fairy tale. The dress is a soft yellow, strapless, and the bodice is tight, but the body half is flowy with that fluffy shit that girls love. Sarah gives us a spin, and I know she feels beautiful because of the smile on her face.

  Jenkins pushes off the couch and pulls Sarah in for a hug, kissing her temple. “You are beautiful.”

  “Thank you.”

  All the guys shout and cheer, bringing their fingers to their mouth and whistle. I can hardly move. I want to whisk her away and never look back. I shouldn’t be thinking about this, but I’m jealous over some kid who gets to take her to prom and dance with her. He will have his hands on her, and I have never hated our age difference so much in my entire life.

  I can’t let her go to prom unsupervised. I’ll have to talk to the principal. Don’t dances need chaperones? I’ll have to look into that. That will give me the opportunity to be there and lurk.

  “Do you like it?” she asks me, and I know if I ruin this for her by not saying she isn’t perfect, I’ll ruin this dress and prom for her, and I can’t take that away.

  “You look like you stepped off the runaway, doll,” I say, letting the nickname I have for her slip. She’s my doll.

  “Thank you for bringing me.”

  “Do you need anything else? Shoes? Jewelry? What do women need for this?”

  “I don’t want to impose or anything,” She runs her palms down the front of her dress. “I can look at the shoes and jewelry here.”

  I scoff. No woman who belongs to Ruthless will wear fake shit. “No, doll. We will get you everything you need.”

  “Can we get food first? I’m about to die,” Poodle asks, rubbing his stomach, and Sarah nods and laughs. I hope like hell he took pictures of her in every single dress because I want to look at them, frame them, and always have them on me.

  Sarah turns around and walks away, and the small, lean lines of her shoulders show elegantly. I want nothing more than to feel how soft her skin is. Sarah is going to be my ruin with how she tests my patience.

  Hell, she is my ruin.

  5

  Sarah

  By the time we get home, I don’t just have my prom dress, but ten other bags full of clothes. Everyone wanted to buy me something at the mall. They spoiled me. I have new outfits, new shoes, a new hair straightener, makeup; everything a girl could ever want—these guys got it for me today.

  The best part of the day was when I walked out in the yellow dress and Reaper looked at me as if I was the only woman in the world. That’s how I always want him to look at me. He has no idea how special of a man he is, and having his attention on me today, nearly all day, is something I will always remember.

  I don’t look at him like a father figure like most people think I should. I never have because I’ve never seen the age difference between us. I only notice the feeling I get when I’m around him.

  This soul-pulling need to be in his arms and surrounded by him is an emotion that consumes me. I can blame it on the age, on my youth, but I won’t because I’ve seen and experienced things people never do in their entire lives.

  I’m seventeen, but I’ve seen plenty of life for the rest of my life.

  All the engines shut off one by one, leaving the night quiet. It’s odd not hearing the roar and feeling the vibration under me. Crickets sing, and every so often the glow of lightning bugs light up the sky along with the stars. I love it here. It’s so peaceful. I know there’s a darker part of the club they keep from me because I’ve experienced so much darkness myself. They won’t be able to keep it from me forever, but for now, I’m going to soak it up.

  “What’s on your mind, sis?” Boomer, I need to get used to calling him that. My brother isn’t patched into the club yet, but after what he did to my abuser, he earned his nickname. I love him so much for taking that nightmare away from me.
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  Tongue grabs my bags and kisses my cheek. “I’ll set these in your room. I’ll see you later.”

  “Thanks for everything. You were a really great friend today.”

  No one must tell him that because he grins, and he never grins. I had no idea he had such nice teeth. Happiness looks good on the brooding man. “It’s what I’m here for.” He makes his way up the steps along with everyone else. Reaper hangs out on the porch with Tool as they smoke, never taking his eyes off me.

  I cross my arms to keep myself shielded from the cold air and sit on one of the tree stumps they put in the ground last summer for extra seating when they have their gatherings. Boomer takes a cigarette out, and as the match glows in the dark, illuminating his face, all I see is Dad.

  He looks so much like him it’s scary, and it makes me miss what I never had even more.

  “Looks like you have the guys wrapped around your finger, especially Tongue. I’m not surprised. You’re the best.” He throws his arm around my shoulders, and I lay my head against him, sighing in content.

  How can this be my life now when a year ago I was fighting just to survive another day?

  “I love you, Jenkins.” We never say it enough, and I want him to know.

  “I love you too, sis.”

  I love that he never hesitates to tell me when I say it to him. “You know, this life, it doesn’t have to be yours. You can be more than this. You were made for more.”

  “There’s nothing wrong with this life.” I feel like I’ve been slapped. The club is everything. They saved my life. I owe them. “What’s been your deal lately? You act like you hate it here.”

  He lifts a shoulder, blowing smoke out into the cold air. “I’m just saying. You can be more. I’ll have your back, no matter what. We can leave, we can do whatever you want.”

  “You’d do that for me?”

  “You’re my family, my blood; I’d do everything for you, Sarah.”