"None of your business!" Kami snapped. "Oh my god Evie, what did you do?"
"Nothing!" I cried, doing a face plant into my palms. "What was I supposed to do? Frankie was right there! You know, my crazy, over protective, homicidal, boyfriend Frankie? I had a silent freak-out and left! Now I’m having a loud
freak-out
because Frankie isn't here!"
"I don’t like that guy," Chase muttered.
"Go away," Kami hissed.
Ignoring her, he sat down on the foot of her bed. Kami gaped at him.
"Seriously Chase, don't you have anything better to do?"
He took another sip of whiskey. "Nope. It's Saturday morning. What the fuck should I be doing?"
"Your eighteen year old assistant?" I said, helpfully.
Kami started laughing.
Chase, clearly not bothered by this, shook his head. "She got clingy. Fired her."
Kami snorted. "She's eighteen Chase, what did you expect?"
"To have some fucking sense and realize it wasn't going anywhere," He muttered. "It wasn't as if she could have forgotten I was married, not with the five million pictures of you, that you annoyingly wallpapered my office with. Pictures she saw up close and personal when I was bending her over my desk."
"Gross!" Kami cried out. "You should have at least moved the pictures!"
"Nah," He said. "I like to look at you while I'm fucking other women."
"Hmm," Kami said thoughtfully. "I don't like to look at you ever."
"Ahh," He replied. "So that's why you always have a pillow over your face when I'm fucking you."
"Pretty much," She said cheerfully.
"You guys are so weird," I informed them.
"You'd be weird too if your dad forced you to marry a douchebag."
Chase raised his glass in the air. "Cheers to that," He murmured.
Kami rolled to her side and brushed my hair out of my face. "Let's go shopping," She said softly. "Retail therapy. It's on Chase."
I giggled. "Not exactly hurting for cash, Kam."
"My cash is legally earned," Chase stated. "Not a drop of blood on it."
I glared at him. "You're a lawyer Chase. There's blood all over you."
"Kinky Eva," He murmured silkily. "I like it."
I wrinkled up my nose. "Maybe you should have a cup of coffee."
He raised an eyebrow. "If I accept my drinking problem and turn to god does that mean you'll finally accept my offer and become my mistress?"
This was exactly why Frankie hated Chase.
“God Chase, you’re so pathetic. Eva would never fuck you. Hell, the only reason I fuck you is because I have to."
"Eva will fuck me eventually," Chase said lazily. "Everyone has their price; I just haven't found hers yet."
Any normal person would have found this insulting, but this was Chase and I was used to it. So I decided to give him a taste of his own medicine.
"Chase," I purred. "You wanna know why you’ll never get this?” I swept my hand down the length of my body.
“Do tell,” Chase said, staring at my chest.
“Because baby, I'm wild pussy and wild pussy can't be bought. Wild pussy doesn't like having pretty things thrown at it and being expected to do the samba on someone's cock in return. Wild pussy doesn't do deals. Wild
pussy lives free and for
itself and takes
it
how
ever
it likes
it
; on a bed, on a couch, on the hood of a car, in a bathroom stall or up against a wall in an alleyway and it laughs the entire time. I've known you for a while now Chase. I know you've never had wild pussy and I know you never will. Wild pussy doesn't fuck uptight cock. And it sure as hell doesn't like silk boxers."
Chase's mouth fell open.
Kami’s high-pitched laughter echoed throughout the large room.
"Time to go shopping," She said in a
singsong voice.
“Pick me up some cotton boxers while you’re out,” Chase muttered.
“Pick them up yourself!”
“Can’t. I’m going to be jerking off all day to the beautiful imagery of Eva's pussy that she has so graciously provided me with.”
☼☼☼
Courtesy of
Chase, Kami and I spent the entire day shopping, Kami because she can shop for weeks without tiring, me because I wanted to be nowhere near the club.
Around eleven and after a few drinks at a neighborhood bar Kami's driver took us to the clubhouse. Three Harley's with Montana plates were still parked out front and Kami was beside herself with excitement.
I was beside myself with anxiety.
We found them in the clubs spacious living room
with several of my Demon boys and their girls
. Mick had a whore on his lap
and
Cox was in the middle of heated debate with my cousin Trey. No Deuce. I didn't know whether to be relieved or upset.
The second we entered the room Cox locked on Kami.
“Babe,” He groaned. “You up and left me in the middle of the fuckin’ night. Haven’t slept good since.”
Kami grinned. “You need me to tire you out?”
Cox bolted across the room, scooped her up over his shoulder
and headed for the stairwell.
“Christ,” Mick muttered.
"Second floor," I called after them. "Empty beds!"
"Frankie?" I asked a Demon named Split.
He grinned. "Passed out cold a while ago. Took three of us to lug him upstairs."
I gave Split a kiss on the cheek, waved to Trey and turned to go.
I was halfway to the stairwell when a large hand came down on my shoulder. I quickly shrugged out of Mick's grasp. "Don't ever touch me," I said evenly.
His eyebrows shot to his hairline. “Didn’t mean nothin’ by it, darlin’. Just wanted to apologize for how shit went down last time we crossed paths. Deuce is my
Prez
and my brother and I got love for him, you feel me?”
“I feel you,” I snapped. “But none of that changes how you treated me when you didn't know shit about me! So keep in mind you're in my club, these are my boys and if you fuck with anyone, I will bury you myself.”
He stared down at me. "You've gotten harder babe, fire's burnin' brighter, life's takin' its toll on you, ain't it?"
I blinked and it was Deuce's face I saw.
You’re a good kid, darlin’. A good, sweet kid. Promise me you’ll stay that way, yeah? No matter what you see, no matter what sort of fucked up shit happens to you. Don’t let this life turn you bitter.
I wasn't hard, was I? I definitely wasn't bitter. Right? Why did I suddenly feel like crying?
"Whatever Mick. Just stay out of my way and don't fuck with my club."
He smiled. "I feel you babe. You got love for the club, I get that and I admire that
in an old lady. Been hearing
bout' how fuckin' awesome you are all day. "
I glared at him. “I am not an old lady.”
“You in Frankie’s bed?”
“Nope,” I shot back. “Frankie’s in my bed.”
Turning on my heel, I left him to stew on that.
After dumping my purchases in my room and divesting Frankie of his boots and jeans, I made my way downstairs. Yawning, I pushed open the door to the kitchen and felt around for the light. It switched on.
Rubbing my eyes with the heels of my palms, I trudged to the fridge, grabbed a bottle of purple Gatorade and turned to go.
I dropped the Gatorade.
There was Deuce, leaning back against the opposite wall -mere inches from the light switch- with his pants around his ankles and his hands full of badly bleached blonde biker babe hair. The space of three years closed and I was back in Deuce's kitchen watching Miranda bounce in his lap.
“What the fuck,” I whispered hoarsely.
The girl jerked her head up; Deuce shoved her back and laughed bitterly.
“What the fuck? You sneak out of my bed in the middle of the fuckin’ night and hop straight into Frankie’s and have the fuckin' nerve to ask me, what the fuck!”
The girl jerked again and again he pushed her back. "Bitch, you stop suckin' one more time and I'm gonna slap you," He threatened.
I gaped at him. "You're a pig," I choked out.
"Yeah."
"No really, you're a sick pig."
"Yeah, darlin', I know."
Furious, disgusted, feeling oddly betrayed and heart broken, and a whole bunch of other emotions I couldn’t pinpoint because my mind was spinning wildly, trying to comprehend and deal with what I’d just walked in on and couldn’t, I ran for the door. Deuce's hand shot out and hooked around my forearm, his grip as tight as a vice.
Tears burned in my eyes. “Let me go!”
"No."
"This is sick," I whispered.
“Yeah babe,” He whispered back. "I just don't give a fuck.”
He yanked me sideways and I tripped over the girl's feet. Deuce pulled me forward and I fell into his che
st, right on top of the girl.
My stomach was pushed against the girl's head and I was straddling her back. Back and forth, I went with her as she continued sucking him off.
Our lips were nearly touching; Deuce was breathing hard, his hot breath smelling strongly of rum. Actually, his entire self smelled like rum. Like he had taken a bath in it.
"I'll scream," I hissed.
"Go ahead," He shot back. "I really don't give a fuck."
God, he really didn't. His beautiful eyes looked empty. But I wouldn't resort to screaming. Screaming would result in Deuce dead. And I loved him far too much to be the bearer of that blow.
"Just let me go," I whispered. "You're shitfaced!"
"Yeah. Your fault babe. Want you so bad I fuckin' ache.”
Oh god. Pain and regret so violent gripped my insides and my knees buckled under the onslaught. Deuce caught me under my arms and hauled me back up.
He pressed his mouth against mine and breathed into it. “One fuckin' kiss, baby,” He whispered.
I choked on a sob. “Deuce,” I whispered through my tears. “Please don’t do this. This is really, really, fucked up.”
“That's the thing darlin', I've always been really, really fucked up. For some fuckin' reason you weren't seein' it. But you get it now, so shut the fuck up and lemme fuckin’ kiss you and pretend that hot mouth around my cock is your sweet pussy.”
“Deuce, please…"
"Yeah," He breathed into my mouth, "Keep beggin'."
"Fuck you," I
whispered
.
"No babe," He
gritted out. He released me
and his hand
s
shot into my hair, gripping handful
s
. "Fuck you."
He shoved his tongue in my mouth and tightened his grip on my hair to keep me in place. He came moments later, groaning, and I burst into tears.
"Please, please," I begged, "Please let me go.”
His nostrils flared. “Let you go?” He hissed. “Let you fuckin’ go?”
He pushed me backwards and I tripped over the girl's legs and landed hard on my backside. Deuce shoved the girl away from him and hiked up his jeans. He glared down at me.
“Been tryin’ to let you go, been tryin' for fuckin' years,” He said roughly. “Haven’t figured out how yet.”
Speechless, I watched him stalk out of the kitchen.
The girl, who I had just realized was Lynn, my Uncle Joe’s favorite girl, wiped the back of her hand across her mouth and looked over at me. “Bikers, Eva,” She huffed. “Fuckin’ crazy.”
“Don’t say anything to Joe,” I whispered.
“No worries, baby.”
I heard the telltale sounds of Harley pipes growling loudly then fading off into the distance. I wondered if this was the last I would ever see of Deuce. For five years, I wondered.
Then one summer night I didn’t have to wonder anymore.
Deuce cut his engine, toed his kickstand down and studied the farmhouse in front of him. Mick pulled up beside him
.
Five more of his boys followed suit.
"You sure ‘bout
this Prez?" Ripper asked, leaning forward on his handlebars. Even in the dark Deuce could see the ugly looking slashes that married the entire right side of his face. Right eye gone, right side of his mouth slashed, frozen in an ugly looking frown. His chest was worse. This was all courtesy of Crazy Frankie, who had done him over real good about two years back. Frankie was all about the torture before the killing. Luckily, Ripper had gotten away before the fucker could do him in.
"How can you ask that?" Mick said. "After what he fuckin' did to you?"
Ripper shrugged. "Don't get me wrong Mickey, I want the fuck dead more than any of you."