by K E Osborn
Groaning, I run my fingers through my hair. “I can’t, not yet. She doesn’t trust me.”
Ivy leans forward on the table. “Have you given her a reason to?”
“I kept her from slavery. Shouldn’t that be enough?”
“Geez, man, you understand nothing about women, do you!” Ivy chuckles. “Okay, so you know about our parents, she’s obviously told you. That story would have been super hard for her to open up about. She shared something deep and honest about herself… did you open up to her about you?”
“I left the room. Told her I’d sleep somewhere else.”
She flops back in her chair excessively with a long drawn-out groan. “You’re an asshole… poor Eva! She bares her soul, and you screw her over. That was your chance right there. You needed to show trust back to her, open up with something about your life, Nycto. Men are so fucking dense. No wonder she doesn’t trust you when you do something as ridiculous as that. Fucking hell.”
My eyes widen as I stand. “I… ahh, shit! I didn’t think leaving was that big of a deal? I was giving her space to deal with her grief.”
“Estúpido
I lean against the table. “I froze, so I left. Now, though, I see where you’re coming from. She’ll be thinking… well, fuck me… who knows what she’s thinking. Probably that I gave up on her after she opened up to me. Fuck!”
“Nycto, you need to go back to her and apologize. Open up, give her something if you want her to trust you. Hell, you don’t have to tell her your credit card number, but just something to make her feel like she isn’t alone. If you can’t, then please, let me go see her. I need to make sure she’s okay.”
Tilting my head, I assess Ivy’s wrists. There’s no sign of aggravation on her skin from her handcuffs. She hasn’t made any attempt to get out. I don’t get her at all.
“Ivy, you haven’t even tried to get out of your restraints. Why?”
She glances down at the cuff attached to the chain, which is then linked to the pole that circles the wall around the room. She shrugs. “Because I have nowhere to go. Eva’s here, but not only that, everyone has been welcoming. I might be being held like a prisoner, but in no way do I feel like one. I just wish I could meet a few more people. Some other females, maybe?”
“You like it here?”
She takes in her cell, then shrugs. “It’s comfortable. I’m at ease. I just hope Eva’s not too stressed out. What with you giving her mixed signals, I’m sure she’s going out of her damn mind. And, Nycto, that doesn’t sit well with me.”
“I’ll send down someone to occupy your time other than Void. Some girl-time. Thanks for the advice with Eva. Though, I’m in way over my head.”
“You’ve got that right. The moment you lied to her about me being here was your first mistake. Then walking out on her after she opened up to you was another. Try to stop making them, Nycto.”
Taking a deep breath, I turn, heading for the stairs. “Keep your attitude in check. Just because you think you’re a houseguest, doesn’t mean I won’t throw you into the sea wearing concrete boots if you annoy me.”
She chuckles. The bitch actually chuckles. “I believe you, but you’ll never do it. Eva will never forgive you!”
I take the stairs two at a time to get away from the brat. She might be getting on my nerves, but she has a way about her that’s growing on me. I like her. She’s the right kind of person for this club. A little bit of attitude, a hell of a lot of balls.
Her sister, on the other hand, I haven’t quite worked out how she’s going to fit into this whole mess. She’s highly strung, but that’s my fault. I haven’t given her the opportunity to relax, to unwind. She’s been cooped up in a room with no windows since she got here. I want her to trust me. I can’t let her in just yet, I can’t break down my walls with her, but I can do something to make her feel more welcome.
Walking up into the main clubroom, Pepper and my Sergeant-At-Arms, Whiskey, are talking at the bar. Our eldest member, Crow, sits next to Whiskey, sipping on a brew like he isn’t listening, but he is. He’s always listening.
Spark, Voltage, and Nerve are at the pool table being rowdy fucks, while Dash and West, the prospects, flirt like dickheads with Trixie and Stacey. The thing about prospects is they’re allowed to flirt all they want with the club girls, but until they earn their patch, they can’t go anywhere near that pussy.
Brass and Void are drinking at the other end of the bar. Void’s deep in thought, but I can’t deal with him now. I need to gain everyone’s attention. Bringing my fingers to my lips, I let out a loud whistle through the room. Everyone stops what they’re doing, turn, and face me.
“You’re all aware of the situation we have downstairs and in my room.” Everyone nods, so I continue, “While package two is settling in nicely, package one needs a little more attention. So, I want to bring her out of my room.”
“You sure that’s a wise move to make right now, Prez?” Void pipes up.
“No one is to tell her, or even insinuate about package two being here, or knowing her whereabouts. If package one brings it up, you’re all to be sympathetic but change the topic.”
“What if she tries to run? My old legs aren’t in the mood for a chase,” Crow gruffs, making us all snicker.
“She won’t be running anywhere. I’ll make sure of it. You just play your damn parts. No mention of package two. Got it?”
“Understood, Prez,” Void answers.
“Want me to make her something to eat?” Trixie calls out.
“Yeah. Let’s do a small gathering to make her feel like she’s welcome here.”
“You got it.”
Void strides over. “I’m gonna go tell Ivy, so if she hears anything, she doesn’t make a fuss.”
“Good call. Close the door to the Brick Cell. I don’t want her hearing this. It might upset her that she’s missing out.”
“You underestimate her, Prez. It would make her happy that her sister’s finally going to be enjoying herself like she is.”
I narrow my eyes on Void. In this short time, he thinks he knows Ivy that well? Void, a man who doesn’t do emotion, a man who closes himself off from feeling anything.
I slap his shoulder. “Don’t be down there too long. I’m going to get Eva now. Make sure you’re back up here before I come out.”
He gives me a two-fingered salute, then walks off.
Now, to go get Eva.
I just hope when I walk in, she doesn’t throw another book at me or something worse.
Chapter Thirteen
EVA
I really wish I had another set of clothes. I’m so sick of wearing the same dress. I mean I’m not even sure how long I’ve been here. A day? A couple of days? A week? Being locked in this room gives me no sense of time. Meals aren’t run to a schedule, so I can’t be sure when it’s breakfast, lunch, or dinner. They come when they come. I’m at a loss. I feel disgusting. I’ve been wanting to take a shower for so long, but with Nycto coming and going whenever he wants, I’m nervous he’ll come in when I’m in the shower, and seeing me naked is not something I believe is good for either of us.
There’s no denying there’s some kind of chemistry between us, but I can’t act on it. I mean, he stole me for crying out loud. For all intents and purposes, Nycto is not a good guy. I need to not get caught up in his attempts at trying to persuade me that he is. He proved it to me by walking out before. I bared myself to him, thought we could have a moment to share something together, but he left with the intent of sleeping somewhere else. Well, if my sob story scared him that much, then he’s weaker than I thought he was.
Huffing, I stand from the bed I’ve been moping on and storm over to the closet between the two doors. Why I h
aven’t thought to look in here before now? I’ve had enough of this party dress. It’s time to get comfortable.
Pulling open the tall wooden door, the smell of leather hits me. Inhaling the scent, it instantly reminds me of Nycto as I take in his closet. The left side is all hanging space. The right lower half, all drawers, then stopping to make a shelf. A mirror sits at the back of the closet. On top of the shelf are little knickknacks. A matchbox motorbike—maybe from his childhood. A zippo lighter with what I’m assuming is the club logo inscribed on it. A small wooden box. A bottle opener. A set of Bluetooth headphones. An expensive-looking watch. Picking up the matchbox motorbike, I study it—a miniature Harley.
Is this where his love of bikes came from as a kid?
Returning it, I turn to the left side, running my hand through the hanging clothes. Mainly white or black tees. The occasional dress shirt. One random pair of sweatpants.
Pressing my lips together, I pull them from the rack, throwing them over my shoulder. I rustle through the rest finding an RBMC club shirt. It’s black with a white logo on the back, then the word ‘President’ is proudly sported across the front. I grin from ear to ear as I take it off the hanger. He’s probably going to kick my ass for this, but honestly, I don’t care at all. He pressed my buttons, so I’ll stomp right back on his.
Turning around, I walk over to the bed, placing my ensemble on the mattress. Excitement bubbles inside of me as I sashay out of the dress I never want to wear again in my lifetime. I throw it onto his desk out of the way, wishing I had some fresh underwear. I gnaw down on my bottom lip glancing back over at his closet. Slowly, I walk back and open the top drawer.
Score.
Boxer briefs.
Would that be weird?
I hesitate for a moment, then throw caution to the wind.
I search through his underwear drawer until I find the smallest pair of boxer briefs I can find. They’ll still be far too big, but they’ll be better than what I’m wearing. I slide his drawer closed, turning back to face the door. I hesitate for a moment making sure no noises are coming from the other side.
It’s clear.
So, I shimmy my panties down, quickly sliding his briefs up my tanned legs. Rolling the edge over a couple of times, I manage to get them to sit on me just fine.
I giggle to myself.
Nycto is going to blow his mind.
I walk over placing my panties on top of my dress in clear view if he ever walks back into the room. He’ll know right away I’m not wearing my panties. It will drive him mad, and for some strange reason, that makes me happy as fuck.
Moving back over to the bed, I grab his sweatpants, pulling them up. They’re way too big, so just like the briefs, I fold the edge over and over until they end up sitting perfectly in place. Grabbing the President’s shirt, I hesitate for a moment. Bringing it to my nose, I sniff, it smells like him. This is a big deal. This shit means something to him. Plus, it’s probably disrespectful in his eyes.
Fuck it.
I thread my arms through the sleeves, yanking it over my head. Glancing down at the shirt, which is too big for my body, I can’t help but smile.
Something washes over me. A feeling of home, a sense of belonging. The sensation foreign to me.
I haven’t felt like I truly belonged anywhere since my parents died.
When they left, everything felt skewed like nothing was right.
But standing here, in Nycto’s shirt, it’s like my world is falling back into place. The only problem, it scares the hell out of me because Ivy isn’t here. A world without my sister, without me protecting her and making sure she’s okay, is not a world I will be okay in.
I scrub at my face to stop my eyes from watering and head back over to the closet to close it. My mischievous mood has soured, and now I want to sit on the bed and wallow. I close the left door, grab the right, but as I go to shut it, the small wooden box on the shelf grabs my attention.
Pausing, my eyes focus on it.
Once you know what’s in there, it can’t be unseen.
My curiosity outweighs my better judgment.
I slowly slide my fingers over the lid of the box. Inhaling, I hold my breath as I gingerly open the box. I tense, half expecting a finger or some other equally disturbing bullshit to be inside. Gritting my teeth, my eyes narrow almost shutting, dreading what I’m going to witness. My stomach tightens in a knot. Taking one last breath, I open it fully.
The lid is lined with red velvet. Leaning over to see what’s sitting in the lower half, my eyes widen as I gasp.
A key!
My breath catches in my throat as I pick it up. It’s an old-style filigree pattern with a skull on the handle. My head snaps to the door, and my eyes focus on the lock.
It couldn’t be that simple, could it?
My fingers tremble as I move to pick up the key, but then the handle to the door starts to rattle.
“Fuck!” I drop the key into the box, closing the lid, and quickly but quietly close the closet door.
As the door handle starts to turn, I bolt over to the bed, lunging for it and spread out, my body bouncing with my movement as Nycto enters, albeit a little sheepish. I turn on my side facing him, propping my head up, trying to catch my frantic breathing as his eyes catch sight of my dress and panties on his desk.
He slowly cracks his neck to the side, flaring his nostrils like he’s trying to keep his shit together. Nycto’s eyes slowly turn to take me in, then they widen as he notices what I’m wearing.
He halts dead still.
Every inch of him stops moving.
Even his chest.
He’s stopped breathing!
I sit up on the bed, watching him in concern. I want to go to him, but I’m worried he’s having a medical episode. “Nycto? Are you okay?”
He finally inhales. It’s sharp, followed by him clearing his throat to regain his focus. He rubs the back of his neck seeming uncomfortable. “You’re wearing my shirt.”
I smirk. “And your pants, technically.”
“I see that.”
“If you wanna get real honest, I’m also wearing your underwear.”
He clenches his eyes closed, pressing his fingers to the bridge of his nose. “Jesus Christ.”
I twiddle my fingers together nervously. “Sorry if I overstepped. I couldn’t be in that dress any longer—”
His eyes snap open with an intensity in them as they bore down into me. “That shirt is for the president to wear only.”
I gulp a lump down my throat. “I figured seeing as how I’m staying in here, no one but you is going to see me in it.”
“You need to take it off.”
Oh crap! He’s about to lose his shit. Not out of anger, but like he can’t hold himself back from me.
“I’m not putting that dress back on,” I demand while folding my arms over my chest.
Nycto storms over to his closet, yanking it open, and grabbing some random shirt. It also has the RBMC logo on it, but without the president patch. He shoves it toward me. “Change it!”
I huff, my heart hammering in my chest, but I give in. “You need to turn around.”
His eyes wander up and down my body one last time. “Just take off the damn shirt, Eva.”
Tension flows through the room, a buzz filtering between us. My breathing hitches at the thought of him seeing me wearing only my bra, and suddenly I’m like a goddess. The way his eyes are devouring me already makes me feel like a queen.
I shouldn’t be encouraging him.
I should be demanding he turn around.
But if he’s going to play this game, I can play it just as well. “Fine!”
My eyes meet his, and I gnaw down on my bottom lip, the energy sizzling between us as his eyes follow my every move. My hands slide the shirt up over my stomach, his brown orbs admiring my toned tummy as I hitch it higher. He shifts a little to adjust his cock in his jeans as I lift the shirt over my bra. I hoist it over my shoulders and off
my head, waving my long hair from side to side. His eyes don’t leave mine and don’t focus on my breasts as they heave. He simply watches me, watching him.
Nycto’s fingers on the shirt clench so tight his knuckles are turning white as I drop his President shirt to the bed standing bare in front of him.
I thought I would feel stripped.
I thought I would feel ashamed.
But the way Nycto’s worshiping me with his eyes only makes me feel like I could do anything right now, and he would willingly let me. The thing is, if he asked anything of me, I would happily let him too.
My skin prickles in goosebumps as the energy swirls, sizzling all around us. He’s not touching me in any way, yet, it’s like his hands are all over me. This is the most intense standoff I’ve ever had with a man.
He slowly slides his arm up with the shirt in his hand toward me, and I take it from him. His finger glides against mine as a spark shoots all the way to my chest making me gasp. He also inhales sharply but lets the shirt go taking a step back.
“Put the shirt on, Eva.”
Nodding, I gingerly pull the new shirt over my head, letting it fall over my body. It doesn’t feel as perfect as the first, but it’s just as nice. I smooth my hands over it, then my eyes shift back up to Nycto. “I’m sorry I upset you.”
He steps forward, reaching out for my hand. “You didn’t upset me, Eva. You shocked me. You look too good wearing my patch. That means something in my world, and I can’t have my brothers out there seeing you wearing it.”
I widen my eyes. “Wait! Why would they see me wearing it?”
Nycto grins, the tension of the moment before ebbing slightly. He reaches into his back pocket pulling out a set of handcuffs. His lips lift, one dimple dipping in, his teeth perfectly aligned giving him a glow of happiness. He might be beaming like a ray of sunshine, but I’m feeling nothing but sunburn as I jerk my head back in shock.
“Umm, what are they for?”
Nycto reaches out for my hand. I don’t pull away as he tightens the cuff around my wrist, then attaches the other to himself.
