Authors: R.J. Lewis
The nights were the most tempting. It started as a quick good night kiss, then after a few days, it lingered longer than usual. After a few weeks, it was full blown make-out sessions. I’d grip him hard at the shoulders, nails digging into his skin, fighting the shudders between my legs that were begging me to surrender to him. I never took it further, and he never pushed.
I just couldn’t. I couldn’t… because what if out there
he
was still holding out for me?
*****
“I’m not going to take it that far,” I stressed, feeling pressured and annoyed I’d opened my mouth at all.
Lucinda ignored me as she parked in front of the pharmacy. She had my script in her bag after we’d left the doctor’s.
“Lucinda, please,” I begged.
“And what if it does go that far?” she retorted, turning her body to me. The seriousness in her gaze rendered me speechless. That look was usually reserved for Jaxon, not me. “What if you’re kissing Jordan and things get a little hot and heavy?”
My face burned. I couldn’t look her in the eye about this. It was just too weird.
“Well, answer me, Sara! I want to know.”
I heaved a shrug. “I don’t know! I’d tell him to stop.”
“Then you’re an idiot,” she snapped. “You’ve kissed him before, obviously. Right?”
“Yeah…”
“Did you ever want to keep going?”
Any second my cheeks would burst into flames. “I-I don’t know. Not really. Sometimes I’d want to put my arms around his neck.”
She looked at me pathetically. “Arms around his neck? What the hell? Poor Jordan if that’s all you’re willing to do…”
My jaw dropped, and she raised her brows challengingly. “I’m sorry I’m not out screwing him as we speak!” I sarcastically said with a roll of my eyes.
“What if he wants more? Are you going to keep stringing him along?”
“If he wants more, he can wait until I want it too.”
“You’ve been with him over a year, Sara–”
“And what’s another four?” I was being a cheeky little wench. I had to bite my inner cheek to keep from smiling at my ridiculous words.
“Sara, I’m being serious,” she replied. She ran a stressful hand through her blonde hair and stared out the windshield for a few moments. Her blue eyes were lost in some kind of thought that turned the atmosphere into something heavier, sadder. “There are only so many times a man can hear no. Only so many times before his self-control reaches its limit. A reasonable man would walk away, but a man obsessed will take you however he can until he can’t hold back.”
Whoa. Jordan was just a fifteen year old. Nothing we did was serious. We’d kissed like crazy and made out on occasion, but when I stopped, he did too. He’d been shy about his sexuality and would turn away to hide his bulging erection in his pants as if it was the most humiliating thing ever. Talk about awkward…
“You need to be prepared. You need to be protected. Just in case, Sara.”
I exhaled in defeat. “Fine. You want to drug my body with hormonal crap, go for it.”
“God help us when you’re on it,” she muttered as she exited the car. “You’re already a little witch.”
Once a month, every Jackal in Gosnells showed up at the clubhouse for a barbecue. I don’t know why they called it a barbecue, though. There was no actual fucking barbecue; just a lot of home-made meals from the old ladies.
I noticed this particular “barbecue” had more Jackals than I’d ever seen before. When I asked Remy about them, he said they’d been kicking around lately for “business.” These men were from different chapters, and their new faces made me uncomfortable. They seemed looser than the others, coming in through the doors screaming and howling like a bunch of obnoxious men. They brought an absurd amount of alcohol, and judging by how rowdy they were sober, I dreaded to think how much worse they’d get when drinking.
One man in particular, by the name of Edge, was the scariest one of them all. He was a huge, bulky man, at least six and a half feet tall. Wearing only his jeans and his patch vest with nothing underneath, his physique reminded me of Damien. But where Damien had a caring nature, this man did not. Without a trace of humour, his eyes reminded me of steel: cold and hard.
As they socialized, I walked around, keeping an eye on Mathew and Jake as they chased each other around with water pistols. I felt two sets of eyes on me. The first set of eyes came from Frank, but I was far used to them by now. Every time the old man kicked around, he’d watch me like a hawk with an indecipherable expression on his face. It actually got worse the day Darcy celebrated my birthday. She was the planner in the clubhouse, and a birthday forgotten in her eyes was the biggest sin in the world. When Frank had walked in on the mini-party, he had a look of anger so sharp it made my heart skip a beat. He’d turned around and left. Since then, he kept his distance, but stared and stared. While I’d been self-conscious about it at first, its regularity no longer fazed me. If he wanted to be a creep and stare at me then he could knock himself out.
However, I’ll admit it was comforting at a time like this because the second set of eyes was coming from Edge. He was seated at one of the round tables next to a fat man with a beard that reached his chest. It was a stiff looking beard too, as if he’d put aside an hour to hair spray that shit or something.
“You got yourself a fan,” said Tessa, emerging beside me with a bottle of beer in each hand. She offered me one and I took it.
“Does he come around a lot?” I quietly asked her, though I doubted it because I’d been around for months and hadn’t seen him once.
We were facing Edge’s line of sight, and I hated that Tessa was freely eyeing him uncaringly. Could she make it any more obvious we were talking about him?
“Sorta. He comes around every now and then. He’s the VP in the chapter at Northam, which is right at the border, so you can imagine how important they are to us.”
I reflected on Remy’s words. That to be a VP young wasn’t easy. Judging by Edge, he looked to be in his thirties, and that was young for his role. He was a thing to be feared, I was sure of it.
“Yo, Sara-bara,” Logan said from behind me. I turned around, rolling my eyes at the stupid nickname he’d been calling me lately.
“What?”
“Remy wants to talk to you.” He held out his cell phone.
I took it and put it to my ear. “Hey, Rem,”
“I’m at the shops. What the fuck did you say you wanted again?”
“Yeah, I need some tampons.”
“What the fuck are tampons?”
“You know what tampons are.”
“What brand?”
“The ‘Ladies Comfort’ ones.”
I heard some shuffling on the other end. “There’s no ‘Ladies Comfort’ shit here. It’s a goddamn nightmare in this section. Weird grannies everywhere, lookin’ at me like I’m some tampon creep. Am I wearing somethin’ that belongs to you?” I heard a startled gasp in the background. “Yeah, walk away.”
“Relax, Remy, and stop scaring women in the tampon aisle. I’d have gotten it myself if you let me out–”
“Doesn’t Darcy have some shit lying around?”
“No, she doesn’t. I asked her.”
“Are you even on your period?”
I sighed, noticing Tessa leaning into me and listening to our discussion with a huge grin on her face.
“Just forget about it,” I told him. “I’ll go with Darcy and Tessa to the shops tomorrow and grab some.”
“You aren’t going alone with them old ladies. You can take Russo with you. And Vince. And Broom, too. Hell, I’ll just go with you.”
I sighed again. He always had a Jackal or two stalking us when, if ever, we left the compound. That was a rarity, though. “Alright, Remy. Fine.”
“Anything else you wanted?”
“Cereal.”
“That nasty rainbow shit you eat?”
“Yeah, that one.”
“Alright. Be there soon.”
“Okay, bye.”
He hung up. I used to think it was rude he never said good bye at the end of a call. Then I realized that was just another Remy thing, and there were
a lot
of Remy things.
“You got that man wrapped around your little finger,” Tessa smiled. “Never seen him act like this since… well, never. Do you have rainbows coming out of your vagina or something?”
I screwed up my face at her. “Really, Tessa?”
“You must! I mean, he’s never, ever, ever, ever, ever slowed down with a woman before.
Ever.
Never ever–”
“I get it. Never.”
“Yeah, which means you must be the lay of his life.”
I laughed weakly with her. There was no way I was going to admit that in actuality I certainly was not the lay of his life because we’d never fucked or even gotten passed the make out stage. I wasn’t sure when I’d be ready for it either. Sure, my body wanted it whenever he kissed the hell out of me – and God, that man could kiss – but my heart was protesting with full force, and I was listening to it for once.
“Edge is still staring at you,” she muttered.
I glanced at Edge, and my cheeks went crimson when I caught his eyes. He was terrifying. I’d rather be looking into the eyes of a lion. I looked away quickly and went off again in search of Mathew and Jake. Those boys would forever keep me moving, and that’s exactly what I needed right now.
*****
“Why don’t you wear shit like them, Sara-bara?” Logan asked me a while later after the boys were ushered off to bed. Logan motioned to the hangaround hos that were currently intoxicated and dancing sloppily to the music. They were also barely wearing anything at all and must have been a part of the same “desperate for a Jackal, will dress slutty” groupie club because they had the same kind of clothes on: leather, skin tight skirts that reached the bottom of their ass cheeks, and loose, billowy singlets with their bras pushed all the way up to their friggin’ chins.
“My hooker days are over, Logan,” I told him dryly.
He laughed and then his face went still. “You were a hooker?” Logan was… not the brightest crayon in the box. Couldn’t decipher the ABC’s if his life depended on it and never caught on to sarcasm of any kind. His mind was always wandering. I chalked it up to the fact he was a young guy only thinking with his dick. He was always rooting around with girls, and they
loved
Logan. He was a beautiful looking guy – kinda too pretty for my type – and never played hard to get.
“Yeah, I was a total hooker,” I lied, fighting a smile.
Now curiosity filled him. “What kind of shit did you do?”
“What do hookers do, Logan? Come on now.”
“But like… you’re not a hooker-type. You’re more an escort-type. Is that what you were? An escort?”
I bit the inside of my cheek, feeling cruel for feeding his fantasy. “Oh, yeah. Totally.”