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“You’ve been out for seventeen months,” I scolded when he tripped over a rock and fell.
“My dick broke my fall,” he laughed.
“It’s not a fucking kickstand,” I growled as I got up, ignoring his drunken attempt to use his cock to jack himself back up to a standing position, and walked away from him. I don’t know what my problem was, but since I got out of prison, I was angry.
I kept thinking about the old biker I had killed. I stayed conflicted on whether or not he earned the death I gave him. If I saw a woman being assaulted, I would intervene -even if it was just a junkie whore- I would always meddle in the situation. Any violence against a woman and I would react. It’s the way life should be, especially if it's a stronger, larger man hurting her. The old biker had sat there on his bike holding his helmet, watching someone we all cared about get hurt. It had been two years since I killed him and yet I wanted to murder him all over again. I didn’t want to cut off his airflow, I wanted to torture him.
There wasn’t a second of the day that I wasn’t feeling rage coursing through my veins. Seeing him had brought back everything I had tried to bury and now there was no escaping it from my head. I saw her in my dreams, when I thought about it, and whenever I wasn’t busy. I could still hear her soft rasping voice begging me to save her.
I threw my beer into the fire and watched as the flames erupted from the act. I had to do something to break the memory lane my head kept walking down. I missed her, I always missed her, but I couldn’t find balance with the constant barrage of seeing it. Some nights I wonder if killing the old biker had somehow given me his torment.
As soon as I was released, I was back with the only family I had left. The President of the club, Mad Dog, found me hiding in a drainage ditch when I was just a kid. It was a story you heard too often around here. A kid running from the Sheriff because he had stolen food to feed his family. I didn’t want pity; I wanted the chance to earn what we needed, and Mad Dog gave me exactly that.
When Mad Dog agreed to take me and my mom in, give us a chance to get off the street, get my mom off drugs and away from abusive men, I pledged my allegiance to the club and never took a second to think it over. I would do whatever I had to do to protect my family.
We followed a motto that stated the brotherhood came first, outside family fell somewhere down the list, and last on the list was our own wants, needs, and dreams. Everything we did was for the club, and we did it until we paid our debt or until we could no longer ride. In truth, I had never known anyone to leave without two bullets in the heart as a parting gift.
“Hey,” I nodded at a brunette whose legs caught my eye in a short leather skirt and a denim tank top. She twirled her hair and giggled to her friends that I noticed her. I wiggled my finger to tell her to come to me and her smile fell. She walked over to me like I was about to put her in time out.
She nervously looked all around and then started taking off her clothes. This was the reputation I had apparently earned. The sluts believed I would take some poor girl and fuck her in front of everyone while she trembled with anxiety and fear, and while I was an asshole, I wasn’t like that. I was nothing like they assumed.
“Never mind,” I scoffed and walked down the path and into my house. I walk up the stairs and into my room, closing the door behind me, and falling back on the bed. Darkness invaded my room like it had my soul so many years ago, and I thrived in it.
Going to prison had awarded Dagger and I a house that sits on the backside of the condos that the rest of our brothers on bikes reside in. It was the least Mad Dog could do since I went to prison for something he sent me to do. Dagger decided one night he didn’t want to live in the house and now stays in the room above the detached garage. He is just like me. I have my room in the house, but I prefer to stay in the attic.
I like complete darkness better.
The house is far enough away that if you didn’t see the surrounding fence to our club, you wouldn’t know that this house is part of the club. I liked having my distance. It allows me to sleep at night while they pass blow around like it’s candy.
“K,” the brunette, opened my door and I sat up off the bed. “I’m sorry I didn’t,” I cut her off.
“Do you know how to fucking knock?” I growled, and she looked scared. I loved it when their eyes showed fear, it made my blood boil with fury and a need to fuck them hard. I needed her face to go from fear to fucking pleasure.
To my surprise, she knocked on the open door. That was all it took to reach my breaking point. I stood up, pushed the door closed, and grabbed her arm, dragging her further into the room. I pushed her to her knees as she looked up at me with lust in her eyes. I looked away, unable to see that fucking transparency on her face. It disgusted me that they loved it when I treated them like whores, but then again, that’s what they were.
She pulled out my hardening cock and immediately took as much of it as she could into her mouth. She was too gentle as she pulled back to lick the crown and moan. Bobbing her head up and down as her hand moved in unison with her. I was too large to fit into her mouth; I reached down wrapping a fistful of hair around my hand ramming her mouth harder. I saw tears fall down her cheeks, but she didn’t complain or try to stop me, instead she looked up at me and dared me to do my worst.
I looked anywhere but at her. The darkness was consuming, except for this sliver of light from the door slowly opening. It fell over her when I didn’t want to see her. I didn’t want to know who was there. She had a job to do; I had debased her down to nothing more than a garage to put my bike in.
Following the light, I saw a box had fallen over and a photo of the girl who had once owned my heart was lying on the floor. I grew harder and fucked her mouth with everything I had as my eyes stayed on the photo. I felt my balls draw up as my cock swelled while I stared at the girl in the picture with her fingers on her pink lips from where I had done the same thing just minutes earlier, the day we took that photo. Thinking of the girl who used to sit behind me on my bike, I came hard. I closed my eyes as euphoria took over and was taken back to another time when she was the only one my cock would know, the only girl whose name was carved into my chest as part of a prison tattoo. I growled as I rubbed out my orgasm and the woman started choking on my cum. I eased my grip on her hair as she brought me out of my ecstasy.
I pulled her hair back, allowing her to swallow comfortably and zipped up my jeans. She sat in front of me with mascara streaking her face in complete astonishment because I was walking away. “Wait! What about me?” She demanded to know. I grabbed the photo off the floor, flipped her my middle finger, and climbed the stairs to the attic to be left the fuck alone.
“Karma,” Mad Dog called from across the parking lot. I turned and headed toward him as the morning sun beat down on both of us. The humidity was in overdrive and I couldn’t help but wipe sweat from my head every few minutes. “I need a favor.”
“Anything.”
He never needed to ask me for favors, he was the club president, and the only father I had. When he took my mom and me in, he became the role model I looked up to. He had given us a place to stay, food to eat, and protected us. One night one of my mom’s boyfriends hit her in front of Mad Dog. I tried to attack him, but Mad Dog held me back. He told me to be patient, that all things happen in due time. That night the man disappeared, and no one saw him again. Mad Dog saved our lives, and I owed him mine in return.
The members of our club are the only family I have left - the only family I know. My mom passed away while I was locked up, and the girl who stole my heart left with it. Everyone else was dead or dead to me.
“I need you to make a run,” he slid a package out of his cut, and I put it in my hands. “Take Dagger, Ty, or Chains if you want, but this is not club business.”
“Understood.” One word spoken and I walk off now having a mission for the day. Those days without a purpose were the worst because then all I do is think about her or think about all the things I’ve done. Those days I had no reason to get up were also the most volatile.
“Dagger,” I startled him as he sat beside the pool wearing his cut, a pair of shorts, and his boots that were in the water. “Want to ride?” I asked, and he looked over at the club whores who were diving off the diving board. Dagger held up his finger and we watched as three women jumped. When the new girl came to the end, she dove in and her bikini top floated to the top of the pool before she did.
She surfaced a new shade of red and grabbed the top. She tried to put it on in the water, but instead her breasts bounced in the water and they entranced Dagger. The other women swam over and helped her get situated. I didn’t miss the little smirk she smiled at Dagger when he finally stood up.
