Loving Me, Trusting You (14 page)

“You're stubborn as hell, you know that?” he asks and his voice wavers just enough that I catch a whole lot of Yank in his accent. Not that I'm complaining. I might've been born in Spain, but I've spent the majority of my life in the North, East and West, so it doesn't bother me. All of these Southern trimmings are nice, but I don't need them. He drops his hand and looks down at me, dark eyes sparkling. The stubble on his face fills with shadows and gives him a darker, more masculine look. He seems older then, with the light absent from his youthful face. I'm not sure if I like it or not. I look down at the ground and then back up at him, rising to my feet, so that the toes of my boots brush his. My fingers grasp the waistband of my pants and push them down around my feet, crumpling them around my ankles like chains. But here's the thing: I don't mind. I'm not afraid of Gaine. I don't have to be worried that he's going to strip my womanhood away from me and leave me barren. Not that I couldn't take him, but it's nice to know that he wouldn't even try.

I turn around and bend over, letting my fingers touch the cold, white wall with its dirt stains and oil spots, letting my ass stick out, brushing it against the stiff bulge in his jeans.

“You started this, now finish it,” I tell him, letting my belly rest against the motorcycle. It props me up, holds me still and sturdy, like it's always done in one form or another. Riding is my life. I don't have to have anyone or anything else. “Fuck me.”

No arguments from behind. I hear Gaine slide his zipper down and arch my back when his hands touch my bare hips. A condom wrapper falls to the floor by my feet as I wait fully exposed and wanting, the touch of the air conditioner on my bare parts making me shiver.

“Do it in the ass,” I tell him, gritting my teeth, wishing for that slight edge of pleasure and pain. It's not like I'm new to it, but it'll still hurt, just a little. Gaine though, he knows how I like it. That's why I prefer the same lovers over and over again. Casual sex is fun, but this is better. I don't even think about missing Austin.

“You like to live hard and ride dirty, don't you, babe?” he asks before sliding his fingers into his mouth and then slicking them across my opening, warming me up. I don't need it or want it. I just want to fuck fast and frenzied.

“Do it. Now.”

Gaine doesn't hesitate.

Wrapping his fingers around my hips, he presses his cock against me and slides in hard, shaking the motorcycle in a clink of metal. I grit my teeth and relish the feeling of being whole, of wrapping him so tight that there could no doubt in anyone's mind that in this moment, he belongs to me.
Like I care about that?
That's the last, negative thought I manage to get out before I'm overwhelmed with pleasure, riding a sting of sharpness, opening up and accepting him fully. My nails curl against the wall and the muscles in my stomach contract as I hold back a joyous scream, swallow it into my throat and pray to whatever fucking god will listen that nobody walks in on us.

Gaine rides behind me, holding me so tight I'm almost positive that there'll be marks tomorrow, and fucking me so furious that I know I'm going to be sore. But it's worth it. Oh so fucking worth it.

“Faster,” I growl at him, listening to the rattle of metal below us, imagining the road stretched out before me as Gaine's cock penetrates me deep and teases that sensitive line of flesh that separates him from my pussy. He grinds against it so hard, it's like he's trying to break through and pleasure both parts of me at once, slamming his hips against my ass with the sweet sound of pounding sweat soaked skin and a low, growling moan vibrating in his throat.

I toss my hair back and close my eyes, wishing we were in a bed or something, somewhere that we could let loose and scream and wrestle and grind and writhe for hours on end. Unfortunately though, it can't last. All good things must come to an end, and bad things last forever. While Gaine's body feels good now, while his feelings might be strong, they'll fade. One day, he'll realize I'm not the one and move on, and I'll be left feeling even more alone than I was before. But my nightmares, those remain. They stay behind and they torture me, year after year after year.

My orgasm builds again, climbing to a crescendo of wild ferocity that finally pulls that unwilling screech from my throat. I scrape my nails along the cement wall and listen to Gaine as he comes, shuddering inside of me and grabbing tight enough that his fingertips gouge my skin and draw just the slightest hint of blood. A few more slams of his hips and I'm going, too, falling off the deep end and drowning in wave after wave of mind numbing pleasure that I can't escape from.

When he steps back, when he finally pulls away, I'm a wreck, in tears that I can't explain, stumbling away and fixing my pants before I'm caught with … well, with my pants down.

When the salesman finally stumbles into the room with a wincing Amy at his heels, I'm smiling again, and it isn't pretty, more a grimace than anything else.

“I'll take this, please,” I say, pointing at the bike, and for all the world determined that I am
not
going to be looking at Gaine fucking Kelley.

I ride my new bike back to the hotel while Gaine and the girls walk. I don't go too far though, just in case. You never know what kind of shit can go down at dusk. Everyone always worries about what's going to happen after dark, but not me. The real badasses, the bad guys you want to stay away from, they come out when the sky is still light enough to see, but just dark enough that it casts shadows. People expect bad in the dark; I expect worse at twilight.

My new ride's a piece of shit, for sure, but I'm confident I can fix it up on the road. I've done it before. It isn't easy, but I can make it happen. It's all about knowing people, about understanding how to get your way when you need a favor. I get guys to let me in their shops all the time, and I never have to suck a single dick. Not that I would, of course. But some might.

“How's it ride?” Gaine asks when I pull into the garage and park. I'm sure he can tell from the frown on my face that it wasn't great. At least half the expression's for him, but he probably doesn't know that yet. I swipe some hair over my shoulder and sigh.

“It's not my Bonneville, but it works.” I pause and look over at Amy and Christy. They're holding hands which I think is a little weird, a little juvenile, but whatever. I try not to pay them too much attention. “It's going to need some work, but nothing I can't handle.” He tries to smile at me, turning up those ridiculously perfect lips into a grin. I ignore him. “Let's go back to the room. I need a shower.” Amy giggles, and I toss her a searing glance.

“I'll bet,” she says, but that's it. She tries to smile at me, too, but I'm not into making friends with girls who steal my exes, so there. I move away before anyone else can talk to me and Gaine follows, trying to throw me soft smiles and knowing looks.

“It was just a fuck, Gaine,” I tell him before he starts to think otherwise. I mean, it's not like anal sex has been or ever will be considered the height of romance for God's sake. His smile falters a little, but it doesn't stop him from following me, dragging Amy and Christy along in our wake.

“When are you going to stop kidding yourself, Mireya. You and me, we're meant for each other.” I wrinkle my nose and nearly have a friggin' heart attack when Beck's laughter bursts out from behind the lobby door. He pushes off the wall and stalks towards us with a rictus grin spread across his ugly face. “What the fuck do you want?” I snap at him, continuing on my way to the elevator. I don't care if I'm babysitting or not, I'm going to do what I want to do, everyone else be damned. If Amy and Christy don't like it, they can go to hell.

“Just wanted to let you know I'm on watch right now, and we ain't seen nothing to worry about yet.” My shoulders get tight and my mouth purses. I saw the Triple M'ers hanging outside the parking garage. That was all the reminder I needed.
We're being hunted.
My skin goes cold and my heart starts to beat an irregular rhythm. This isn't how it should be. We should be chasing
them
, not the other way around. They're the ones who should be suffering right now, looking over their shoulders, not knowing
when
it's going to come, but knowing that it will. Eventually.

I hit the button on the elevators with a jab of my thumb and cross my arms over my chest.

“Yet is the word of the day, isn't it?” I growl, fingers clenching tight, dragging my nails across my skin. “But don't you worry your pretty little red head about that. They'll be here. Those idiots would follow Tray to the moon and back.”
And that's why it hurt so much, his betrayal. I trusted him. He had full control, complete and full control.
I squeeze my eyes closed and flick them over, making sure that I'm wearing a mask over my emotions. The last thing I need is Gaine to look me in the eyes and know what I'm thinking about. I don't want his sympathy. I don't want anyone's sympathy. “So stop flirting with the desk clerk and keep your fucking eyes out.” I slide into the elevator and let the doors slam shut before anyone can follow me.

I hear Gaine call out just before the metal cuts us off from one another, but I don't care. I need a moment to myself.

Bested by Crows is going to come, and they're going to get theirs, even if I have to take out everybody in the MC. From the assholes that betrayed me to the women that watched, I'll drag them all to the depths of hell and leave them to rot. If,
if,
there's anyone worth saving, then so be it, but she better be willing to step up her game.

I sigh and slam my forehead against the wall, resting there with my fingers lighting brushing the mirror. The soft sound of a piano drifts to me from the speakers above, painting a melancholy backdrop to my misery. When did life become such a chore to live? I don't even know what it is I really want. Love? Not anymore. Freedom? I guess I have that. Nobody's keeping me here expect myself. Vengeance? Definitely. But then, I have a feeling it's not going to leave me as full as I want it to. It'll be like a bandage to my damaged soul, not a cure.

I push away from the wall and step between the doors as they slide open, gliding down the hallway to my room. As soon as I step inside, my clothes start to come off and I end up sitting on the floor of a hot shower, my mind drifting to places best left undisturbed. The rapes play over and over again in my mind, faces of betrayal and feelings of humiliation that I try to wash away with soap and scalding water. Nothing works. I live it over and over again, the horror stirred up like dust in a stampede. I'm in there so long that Gaine lets himself in and flings back the curtain like he thinks I might be dead.

“Just because we've had sex, that doesn't give you the right to walk in on me when I'm showering.” I don't look up at Gaine, just stay where I am with my arms wrapped around my legs. I can feel his eyes on me, can see his cock responding out of the corner of my eye. He pushes the curtain back into place and I listen as he takes a step back.

“I'm just checkin' in on you is all,” he says with a sigh. I aggravate him. I can tell. But too damn bad. I never asked to mean that much to him. That's his problem. The room stays silent for awhile with nothing but the sound of running water to keep me company, but I know he's still there. Strange as it sounds, I can
feel
him. My nightmares run down the drain with the soapy water, pushed back by Gaine's presence. I might not realize it in that moment, but it's true.

The steam surrounds me, touching my skin with wandering caresses. I lean my head back and let water cascade around my face.

“I thought you might want to get out tonight, do something interesting.”

If I listen hard, I can hear his breathing, rough and pained outside the curtain. He's aroused. Doesn't take a fucking genius to tell me that. Even though we just had sex, my body calls out for him, swearing up and down that my pussy is jealous, that it
needs
his touch. I tell it to fuck off, but somehow, I find my hand wandering between my thighs, brushing my clit ever so slightly, just enough to send a thrill through my body. “Like what?” I ask, and I manage to keep my voice even. I fall back, laying my head next to the faucet and resting against the wall. My fingernails brush across my opening and pause there, hovering, half desperate.

On the other side of the curtain, I catch just the slightest hint of a groan.