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I don't have long before the fucker bleeds out on me, and as I look around, I realize there's gonna be a whole lotta mess to clean up when he’s done dying.
Taking a few steps back gives me a chance to admire my handy work, and somehow he manages to slide himself off the couch and onto the floor. Sweat dripping from his forehead, and determination seething through his eyes as he drags his failing body toward me. His blood drips in thick splats from the machete blade as I keep stepping backward, making a trail for him to follow. Knowing that each step I take causes him more pain, makes me smile.
He’s helpless, crawling at my feet, reaching out his uninjured arm in a pathetic attempt to grasp at my ankles.
“You won’t get away with this, Ev—”
I silence him, forcing the toe of my sneaker inside his mouth.
“Na-ah, I told you, it’s Rogue now,” I remind him, swinging for him again, this time making a deep wound into his back.
His mouth stretches wide, his scream gagged by my foot until I remove it and crouch down to his level.
He chokes, and more blood sprays from his mouth, landing warm against my chest.
I slip my hand between his body and the floor, crushing his crotch in my palm, his dick ain’t quite as confident as it had been a few minutes ago.
“Don’t worry, baby, it happens,” I whisper, gently stroking his jaw with my blood-drenched fingers. He makes an attempt to grab at my face, but his finger slips from my skin weakly. I give him a saccharine grin, before getting up and walking into my room, where I sit on my bed with the door open, and watch him bleed out slowly. Agonizingly slowly, until I can be sure that his hell-ridden soul has crawled itself out of his butchered body.
The feeling is uplifting, a better release than any orgasm I’ve ever given myself, and I breathe in the silence for a while before I do the sensible thing.
Skid answers almost immediately, and it hurts a little to hear his voice. Even if it has only been two weeks since I last saw him, I miss him.
“Skid… remember you said if I needed anything…”
“Rogue, what’s happened?” There’s instant concern in his voice.
“Nothing that can’t be cleaned up,” I assure him
I open my eyes, disappointed when I’m hit with reality again. When I killed Eddie, I never took much, other than making him hurt, into consideration and now I’m being escorted back to the club by their latest rookie. I would have much preferred to stay and watch Grimm clean up my mess. I wonder if he’s getting a sick little kick out of it. If when he’d first walked in and seen what I’d done, he’d imagined folding me over the blood-stained couch and fucking me all the way to hell for my sins.
I’d seen a little lust brighten his dark eyes when I’d stripped out of my dirty clothes in front of him, it gave me a rush to receive a reaction from him. Grimm is the only club member that’s ever interested me. Probably because he’s the only one, except for Skid, who hasn’t hit on me at one time or another.
I’ve always been wired that way, desiring things I shouldn’t, yearning for things I can't have. I like challenges. And in my opinion, anything too easily obtained ain’t worth having.
I rarely get to see Grimm. I’ve always assumed that he isn’t good with engines because he’s never worked in the shop with me before, and there’s no way I’d ever be desperate enough to hang out at the club to find out more about him.
Something tells me that even if I did make the effort, he still wouldn’t take the time to speak to me. He’s got that unapproachable vibe, the kind that makes me curious.
Storm tries his best to focus on the road as he drives us back toward the club, but I notice how his eyes keep flicking sideways at me. He’s either thinking about fucking me or trying to evaluate my mental state. I smile at him regardless. He’s cute.
“You need me to stop off for anything?” he asks, nervously.
“I’m sure you boys got all I need,” I tease, causing him to shuffle awkwardly in his seat.
When we get back to the compound, he drives us straight past the garage, and up the track that leads toward the cabins. It’s new territory to me, despite being invited by Skid numerous times, I’ve never actually taken him up on the offer. I never did buy into the whole family thing the club’s got going on. Over the years, I’ve come to the conclusion that I’m much better off being a loner. That way, I can only let myself down.
Storm pulls to a stop in the yard where all the cabins are, and when he reaches for my bag, I manage to grab it before him.
“Which one of these is Grimm’s?” I ask, looking at the long row of cabins, they stretch at least a quarter of the way around the lake.
“Grimm’s?” Storm looks at me surprised.
“Yeah, he told me I had to stay with him. Skid’s orders.” I cross my arms under my tits, forcing them together, the same way the whores who hang around them like needy cats do.
“He did, did he?” Storm shakes his head and his lips raise into an adorable smile. “Fifth cabin down,” he tells me, before I hop out and remember to thank him for the ride.
Turns out, everyone around here really does trust each other. I was fully prepared to have to pick a lock to get into Grimm’s cabin, but the door is already unlocked. Inside isn’t exactly what I expect from a kick-ass biker. The place is spotlessly clean and very minimal. His living room only has a coffee table, a TV, and a couch that is oddly covered in plastic. I guess we could all learn a little something from Grimm.
