Trouble: Crooked Souls MC (7 page)

“Oh, my God…” she moaned. “What are you doing to me?”

“What do you think?” I asked, laughing to myself as she whimpered. I was taking her. I was making her mine. She would only want me now. Any other man would have to live up to me, and he would fall short. I would be her every fantasy, every wet dream.

The thought had me burning, and I punished her by thrusting up into her as I pumped her up and down. She was stretch out over me, moaning endlessly, begging for more. I thought I felt her twitching again, but she was crying out almost constantly so I couldn’t be sure. I kept fucking her, wearing her down, wanting to give her as much as she could take.

Finally, I rolled over until I was on top of her, then drove my hips down into her hard, fast, sharp. She whimpered louder and louder, and I held on for her. I wanted her to come one more time.

“Do it for me. Let me feel you again,” I grunted. “Let me feel you come on me.”

“Oh…God!” She shrieked, legs and arms gripping me as tight as the walls around my cock. That was all I needed, and I roared when I came. She was mine. Completely mine. I slid out and rolled over, totally spent. Every once in a while, Kat would whimper, and every whimper made me feel proud.

When it was all over, and I started thinking straight again, I asked myself what I’d just done. The last thing I needed was to get involved with her, or anybody. But especially not her. Not when she was hanging around, making trouble for us. I should have gotten here, scared the shit out of her, and left.

But no. I fucked her instead. Good move.

When she smiled up at me, though, with the moonlight coming through her bedroom window, it didn’t seem so bad. It felt right, really. Better than anything I’d felt before. It wasn’t just physical, and it wasn’t like I was in love with her. It was just…nice. I wasn’t used to things being nice, especially when it came to sex. Nice was the last thing on my mind when I was having sex.

“Are you all right?” she asked, looking at me with that innocent smile. She rolled onto her side, facing me. She started running her hand over my arm, my leg, my ass.

I felt myself getting hard again. Damn, there was something about her that did something to me.

I pulled her close to me, then rolled her onto her back and climbed between her legs.

“I’m just fine,” I whispered before we started again.

Kat

When I woke up, I wondered if I’d be able to get out of bed. I finally understood what it meant to feel like a Mack truck ran me over. I was exhausted.

But it was the best type of exhaustion I’d ever felt. A happy, wrung-out, relaxed exhaustion. The exhaustion of a night and morning full of sex, better than any I could have imagined.

I’d seen good sex in movies, or at least, what I’d assumed to be good sex. Screaming and writhing around, mouth open, eyes closed. And always the nails running down the back of whoever was doing the thrusting.

It wasn’t that sex had been bad or boring for me before Gabriel. In fact, it had been good. I knew what made my body tick—at least, I’d thought I did. One night with Gabriel had been like a master class in what my body was capable of. It was like going from a string quartet to a full-blown symphony orchestra. There was more of everything. It was deeper, richer. It felt better. I screamed, and not because I thought he’d like it or thought I was supposed to. I just had to scream to let out some of what I was feeling. Intense didn’t describe it.

I’d lost count of the number of times we’d done it, too. He was unstoppable. I would barely recover before he was on me again—but I was never too tired to jump to response. That was another surprise, how I was always ready for more, no matter how exhausted I felt. Just when I thought I would die if we didn’t stop because I couldn’t take another orgasm, he’d touch me a certain way and my body would accept the challenge.

We fell asleep right after our last marathon session. Sunlight had been coming through the curtains when my eyes slid shut. Now we were tangled up together in a mess of sheets, arms and legs. My head was on his shoulder, my hand on his chest. I could feel his heartbeat against my palm.

I opened my eyes slowly, not wanting to break the spell over us. I knew without looking that Gabriel was still asleep. His breathing was slow and even. I couldn’t resist craning my neck a bit so I could look at his face, and when I did he took my breath away. He looked so peaceful and sweet, like an angel. I knew it was an illusion—the man was anything but an angel. Maybe a dark angel, if anything. But in sleep, he looked innocent. I wondered at the sort of person he was before he joined the club. Who would he have been had he taken another path?

This sort of thing fascinated me. I used to wonder all the time how my life would have turned out if my father had been a stand-up guy. If he had stuck around for Sabrina and me and our mother, how different would things be? If I had been able to live like a normal teenager, what would have happened? I did a lot of this sort of thinking when I was a kid, watching my friends go off to live their lives like normal kids did. In darker moments, when I was the most frustrated, I would imagine an amazing life. Boyfriends, parties, the prom. I would be accepted into a great college and join a sorority and meet a rich boy, and we’d get married and live happily ever after. Sabrina was never a part of these fantasies.

Those fantasies faded the older I became, but I never stopped wondering about the choices our lives hinged on. The smallest choices could have such massive impact. What would I have become if I’d stopped practicing piano and violin? They were both a huge part of my life, but if I had rebelled as a kid and decided riding my bike was more important than working on my scales, I wouldn’t earn money as a performer. If I’d never taken a chance and agreed to play during a friend’s gig when their keyboardist got sick, I wouldn’t have discovered how much I love to perform live.

If Dad hadn’t left, maybe Sabrina wouldn’t have Daddy issues and wouldn’t have gotten involved with the club.

I felt cold all over when that nasty thought worked its way out from my subconscious. I’d been trying to bury it, but there was no getting around it. What if Sabrina hadn’t felt that pull toward the club? Where would she be right now? At home? Working? Living her life?

It was as though Gabriel heard my thoughts because one of his arms tightened around me. He comforted me even as he slept. I let myself sink into his embrace, my head on his shoulder again.

I realized I was happy. It was foreign, something I hadn’t felt in ages. Not since before Sabrina disappeared.

At first, I felt guilty. Was it all right for me to feel happy right now? Shouldn’t I be miserable? Worried? I didn’t know what she was going through, but if she was still alive, she had to be in some uncomfortable situation. Hurt, alone, scared. Did I deserve this happiness? It felt like I was betraying her.

The betrayal felt even worse when I thought about whose arms I was in. It couldn’t have been just any guy, could it? No. It had to be him. I was still almost sure he knew something he didn’t want to tell me. Of all people, I’d fallen into bed with Gabriel.

It was meant to be, though. Wasn’t it? From the moment he kissed me, I knew there was something more to him. He lit a fire inside me, and it glowed warmly as I rested my head on his strong shoulder.

I wondered what his life was like outside of his nights at the bar with the club. And whatever business he did, of course. I didn’t want to think about that now, not while we were in bed together. Or ever.

He moved in his sleep, and I ran my hand over his chest. I loved the way he felt, so firm and strong. Like he could do whatever he wanted to me. I knew he could easily have overpowered me, but he was never too rough. I wasn’t afraid of him. He turned me on.

He shifted again, this time rolling onto his side. I rolled away, so my back was against his front. He pulled me close to him, pressing himself into my backside. He was semi-hard, and just the pressure from it sent a warm feeling between my legs.

I wriggled against him, rolling my hips in a circle. He sighed in my ear, and I felt him growing harder. I did it again, grinding up on his manhood. Remembering what he did to me with that thick length got me wet and ready for him again. I moved again, and this time, he moved with me.

He grunted in my ear, his hand moving over my breasts to stroke and fondle them. I gasped, melting into him. He already knew just how to touch me, setting me on fire with the slightest caress. I couldn’t believe how quickly he made me burn from head to toe. My skin tingled wherever his fingers made contact.

Now he flicked my nipples with his fingers while he rubbed his erection against my butt. I moaned, rocking my hips back and forth to increase the friction between us. His hand moved lower, stroking my legs. I opened them, giving him access to all of me.

When his fingers made contact with my folds, I arched my back and cried out. His mouth latched onto my neck, licking and sucking there while he fingered me. I cried out, begging for more, already so close to the edge. Just hearing him breathing heavily against me, feeling how hot and hard he was behind me while he worked me with his hand, was hotter than anything I’d known before. I tensed against him, screaming as quietly as I could while I came. He fought for breath as I came down from that first burst of bliss, leaning against him as I panted for breath.

He was still moving, rubbing against me, stroking my lips. I sighed and opened my legs wider, allowing him to slide between my legs and into my wet heat. I cried out again when I felt him enter me, his thickness filling me. When he started to move, I nearly came for a second time almost instantly. But he took his time, controlling my pleasure, knowing it would be better the longer it lasted. I gave control to him gladly, letting him rock my body. He knew just what to do to make me come like I never had.

He held my hip, pulling me toward him in time with his thrusts. I thrusted downward, meeting his movements with my own. The angle was heaven, allowing him to fill every inch of me while his hand roamed over my body. He wasn’t in any hurry, slowing screwing my brains out.

He pulled my head back, running his hand from my throat to my breasts, then back up. Possessing me. I was his. He slapped my butt once, twice. I cried out, moving faster against him. It was unlike me, but this was all unlike me. Getting hotter because he spanked me…who was he turning me into?

Before I knew it, I was crying out, one arm behind me to grip Gabriel’s neck as he sucked on anything his mouth could reach. I turned my head to meet his mouth with mine, and when I came again, my screams were muffled by his kiss. Then he thrusted once, twice more before stiffening and falling against me.

Holy hell
, I thought as I gasped for breath. After the marathon we went through the night before, I would never have imagined being able to do it again like that. He was like a machine.

As much as I didn’t want to think along the lines of the future, I couldn’t help wondering where this left us. Where did he want his to go? After the sex we had, I knew I didn’t want to let him out of my life so easily. But I very much got the impression that he wasn’t the relationship type. I didn’t want to scare him off.

I shook myself mentally, wondering when I’d started thinking this way about this man. I couldn’t shake the feeling this was a bad idea.

Gabriel

What was it about this girl? I couldn’t figure her out. Most women I could read from a mile away. They were always after something. Money, a good lay, whatever. Most of the time, if it was a lay, I was happy to give them what they wanted. This one was a puzzle.

One thing I knew for sure: I’d never met a woman like her. She was strong and fragile at the same time. She had no problem beating on me, punching me until she exhausted herself. She didn’t back down, no matter how many times I told her to. I had to admire her for that.

What surprised me most was what an animal she was in bed. That was another thing that set her apart. She was such a good girl on the outside, but when it came down to it, she had an appetite almost as big as mine was. That was saying something. We went all night, and she still seemed to want more. It was like I finally met my match.

I knew I should go home, like, as soon as I woke up. If this were any other woman in any other place, I would have gotten right out of bed and put on my clothes. She would have gotten a pat on the ass and a kiss on the cheek, then she would have been history. I never did more than a one-night stand or a casual fling with one of the club’s regular girls. That was as far as I was willing to go.

Except now, I wanted to stay. I wanted to touch her, see her, hear her voice. She was like some drug I was already addicted to. And she was dangerous, for sure. She had no idea how dangerous she could be.

No woman ever made pancakes for me the morning after we slept together, but that was exactly what Kat did. The smell of them, and of coffee, was what finally woke me up. I put my clothes on and stumbled downstairs, feeling like I ran a marathon. She’d kept me going all night. I couldn’t get enough.

When she heard me walk into the kitchen, just off the living room, she turned to me and smiled. Like she was happy to see me. When did that ever happen?

And it was like that all day. She was happy I was there. She didn’t hang over me. She just smiled, and chatted, and poured my coffee for me. She was a good cook—they were the best pancakes I ever had—and she was fun to be with. She made the morning nicer. Usually, I woke up and there was a hungover chick slung over my arm. Her makeup would be running down her face, and her hair would be sticking up all over the place. Kat was like an angel, especially compared to those other women.

Why didn’t I just leave? Why did I want to hang out all day? It wasn’t like she asked me to stay, and I didn’t ask permission to stay either. It seemed normal, like the way it was supposed to go. Sometimes she would touch my hand, and I’d feel a little jolt like she shocked me.

What was so special about her? Was it the way she made me feel like I was protecting her and being taken care of at the same time? Because that was exactly it. I told myself I was staying so she wouldn’t be worried that someone was going to come and hurt her, but really, it was more because she made me feel good. She listened to me, really listened. She didn’t just laugh too loud, or tell me I was so smart when I said something that wasn’t very smart at all. She didn’t go along with everything I thought either. She wasn’t afraid to argue with me. When she wasn’t arguing, she was listening like she cared what I had to say. She would ask questions like she wanted to know more.

There was something about that feeling of being cared about. I hadn’t felt it very much before then, so it was hard to think about leaving. It might not happen again.

By the time it was mid-afternoon, we were hanging out on the sofa in front of the TV. She was stretched out with her head at one end. I was sitting in the middle, my feet on an ottoman, with her legs across my lap. We weren’t paying attention to the TV, though.

“What made you join the club?” she asked at one point. I laughed, but she was serious.

“You really wanna know?”

“Yeah. Why would I have asked, otherwise?”

I laughed again. “I don’t know. It’s not an easy question to answer. There’s no easy way to describe what it felt like when I was young and I just discovered the Crooked Souls.”

“Did you like the lifestyle?”

“What do you mean?”

“Like, you know. The fast-paced stuff.”

“How much experience do you have with an MC? And don’t tell me it’s all from television and movies.” She didn’t say anything, but her face turned red. I nodded my head. “I thought so.”

“Tell me I’m wrong, then.” She sat up. “Tell me. What was it that made you wanna join? I can’t imagine it was an easy decision.”

“No. It wasn’t easy. But it was the only choice I had.”

“How come?” She was so intensely interested. I couldn’t avoid answering.

“I didn’t have the best childhood.” Was I seriously telling her this? Thorn was the only person who knew the shit I went through. But something about the way she smiled made me think she would understand. And I knew, from what she told me already about the way she raised Sabrina, that she could relate to stories about parents who didn’t give a shit about their kids.

“You don’t have to tell me the specifics if you don’t want to,” she said. I could have kissed her for that. But I did want to tell her, that was the thing. Maybe I’d been holding it in for too long. I had been waiting for the right person to spill my guts to.

“It’s okay. I want to tell you. Only my best friend knows about this stuff. Maybe…I don’t know, it’ll help you understand me a little better. Sometimes I can’t explain the things I do or the way I see things, but I can, at least, tell you this. Does that make sense?”

She nodded. “Perfect sense. I’d like to hear about it, then.” She looked so totally sincere, like she genuinely wanted to know more about me instead of just kissing my ass. Had anyone ever treated me that way? If they did, I couldn’t remember. She took me seriously, not just because I was the leader of a club. I could have been anybody, done anything. She wanted to know me, the real me. I didn’t even think I knew that person.

“When I was eight years old, my parents both OD’d on a bad batch of heroin.”

“My God.” Her eyes went wide.

“You sure you still wanna hear about it?” She only nodded. So I kept going. “I was home with them—it was the middle of the night when it happened. I don’t think I remember a time when they weren’t addicts. Not just to heroin. I think that was the last thing they took. Before that, it was pills. Crack. Cocaine. And they both drank, all the time.” I watched, wanting to see her face when I got to the worst stuff.

“And they beat me. Well, my mom did. When she was awake and with it enough to beat me, anyway. Most of the time she was a zombie. But when she was dying for a hit, and there was nothing in the house? She would beat the shit out of me, just because she was so desperate.”

“What about your father?” Kat asked.

“He was always out hustling, trying to score for them. I don’t even know if he was really my father, to be honest with you. He was the only man I knew who I called ‘Daddy.’ I do remember a few times when we played together, like actually played. Maybe they weren’t too deep into it yet. He helped me build a little castle out of Legos, and sometimes we would toss a ball around. Those were good times. But then that stopped. Now that I’m old enough to understand, I know nothing meant more to them than the drugs. But when you’re a kid, you think it’s about you. You did something wrong to make them not love you anymore.”

Kat put a hand on my shoulder. “I know how that feels,” she whispered.

I nodded. “That’s why I’m telling you, because I think you know a little bit about it. Only for me, it was worse than being left. I was invisible. Like they totally forgot I existed sometimes. They forgot to enroll me in the second grade—an officer from the school district came to the house. For a minute I thought he would take me out of there, or, at least, make them pay attention to me. But he didn’t. He just made sure I got enrolled. I wanted…I wanted to tell him I was hungry. But I was too ashamed. Then there was the time I got home from school and all my toys were gone. I thought it was because I did something bad. I know they sold them all for drug money.”

“Christ,” Kat muttered. I heard how disgusted she was. There might have been a time when I would have defended them, like back when I was younger. But I couldn’t do it anymore. I didn’t care that she was disgusted. I was disgusted, too.

“You can imagine how shitty our house was. We hardly had anything. I’m talking bare light bulbs, a TV that was always half-broken, a couple of pots and pans that were always dirty. I was always hungry. I used to hate weekends, because I didn’t know if I’d get anything to eat at home. At least there were free lunches and school. And the summer was the worst. The house would be hotter than hell, and I wouldn’t be able to get any free food at all. Sometimes they would even come home from being out, and they would have fast food bags. But nothing for me. I really think they forgot about me.” I could remember it like it was yesterday, being so hungry and seeing them come home with food, and thinking it was for me. It wasn’t.

“Then,” I said, “there were the times when other people would come over. I was never allowed downstairs when that happened. But one time I sneaked down—of course I did, right? I was a kid. I was curious. I never sneaked down again.”

“I’m afraid to ask,” Kat whispered.

“They were all stoned out of their minds, and two guys were…doing things to my mom.” Kat gasped and put her hands over her mouth. I nodded. “There was money on the table. That’s how they made money when there was nothing else to sell. My dad was sitting right there, too. Getting high.”

“My God. I am so sorry,” Kat said.

“I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

“It’s not even that. I’m sorry for you. I wish I could give that little boy a big hug,” she said. I had to smile.

“Then there was the day when I woke up, and they were both dead. Just like that. Dead on the living room floor. I had come downstairs to leave for school, and I found them. I knew people were there the night before, so I don’t know if it happened when they were partying or afterward, when they were alone. I sat on the couch and wondered what to do. We didn’t have a phone. I couldn’t call the police. I didn’t know where the station was. And besides…I loved them. Even though they forgot about me and acted like I didn’t matter, I still loved them. I thought, maybe if I were a better kid, they wouldn’t have done what they did. It’s amazing, isn’t it? The shit we tell ourselves when we’re little? Like that would have made a difference, either way.”

“But they were your parents. Of course, you loved them. That’s all kids know how to do. They just love. I remember the rush I used to get when Sabrina would smile when I got home from work. It was the greatest feeling in the world. No matter what her day had been like or even if she felt sick, she was always happy to see me.”

We were quiet for a little while. Then Kat asked, “What happened? I mean, with your parents?”

“Oh, I went to a house across the street. The ones on either side of us were empty, but the one across the street had a nice old lady living there. I told her I thought my parents were dead, and she said something about them being no-good junkies. But she felt sorry for me, you know? She took me inside the house and fed me before she called the police. I was asked a bunch of questions, and put in a boys’ home.”

Kat didn’t ask any more questions, and I didn’t want to talk any more about it either. There were too many bad memories. Getting beaten up the whole first year I was in that home. Wishing a family would come to foster me out, then adopt me. Nobody ever did, so I decided to rely on myself. I started working out as soon as I knew I needed to bulk up if I was gonna get anywhere. By the time I was twelve, I was the biggest kid I knew. Nobody fucked with me after that.

The one constant in my life had always been Thorn. He was there for me. He understood some of what I was going through—his parents were alcoholics, his older sister died of an overdose when he was ten. We never had to explain ourselves to each other. And when he found the club, he told me about them. It sounded like the family we both needed, even though we told ourselves and each other we didn’t need a family. But everyone needed to feel like they belonged somewhere.

“Spike was like a father to me,” I murmured.

“Who’s Spike?”

“He was president of the club when I came in. He was a real leader. He had that sort of…I don’t know, something special that makes you want to follow a person. You know what I mean?”

“Yeah,” Kat said. She smiled at me. “I think you have that, too.”

“He picked me to be president when he was gone.”

“See?” she asked. “He saw it in you, too.”

“Only he wasn’t supposed to step down so soon,” I said. “I know there’s a lot more I could have learned from him.”

She moved closer to me. I was looking down, at my lap, until her hand on the side of my face turned my head to hers.

“You’re a great leader. I see it in the way your men look at you. I saw it when I first met you in the bar. You hold court. Your presence fills the room. You’re a commander. People do what you say. You’re the perfect president for your club.”

I had no idea I’d needed to hear that until she said it. When she did, I felt a sort of relief. Somebody understood me. For a second, I knew what it meant to have a woman by my side. Not some club groupie, not some skank who fucked every guy around. A real woman. Someone who didn’t feel like she had to kiss up to me to get me to like her or earn a higher rank in the club.