Love & Chrome (Motorcycle Club Erotic Romance) (The Verde Demons Book 1) (2 page)

I don’t say anything because there is nothing to say when a bad girl turns good.

Inside the diner, we settle ourselves in our favorite booth in the back, far away from the prying eyes of Sheriff Watts’ cronies. To my father, Tom Sully wasn’t true love, he was jail time not yet served. He got his wish when his department participated in the bust that sent Tom away. How my father gloated when he delivered the news. There was no fatherly concern in his voice, no regret over ripping his daughter’s first love from her troubled young arms. Instead, Sheriff Buddy Watts retired to the backyard with his whiskey, chain smoking and shooting off his guns until the wee hours of the morning. I left home the next day and didn’t return until a year later when my arms were marked with tracks and my body stained from over a hundred different men and women. Fleeing to Maine was a salvation and a penance. To soberly remember how every hardened line on my father’s face got there, that I was the reason, the cause of his decline, was a punishment befitting my rotten, dirty crimes.

The waitress brings us menus that we memorized ten years prior, and I’m anchored back to Tom sitting across from me, looking grown up and more sexy than I had ever thought possible.

“I heard that you went to Maine,” he says pretending to look at the menu.

“With my Aunt,” I say. “In Boothbay Harbor.”

“Population a thousand?” he teases.

“Close. Twenty-two hundred.”

“Jesus,” Tom says. “What does a small town girl do in even a smaller town?”

“She gets sober for one,” I say. I wait for him to rebuke, give me a hard time for my new life choices, but it doesn’t come. “I went to college, and now I’m in Vet school.”

“You’re a vet?” he says, grinning. “You always did have a soft spot for animals.” He slaps the menu on the table. “Do you remember that squirrel we hit?”

“It was a rabbit, and yes, I remember.”

“You were so upset. Tommy, that poor little thing. We have to do something,” he says joke-mocking me. “You were hysterical.”

“I was probably high out of my mind,” I say, rolling my eyes.

He picks up the menu again. Silence fills the space between us. “Do you remember that time we rode to Las Vegas?” he asks.

He doesn’t look up at me, and I’m relieved that he can’t see me blush. Of course, I remember. Our fake ID’s hid our real age as we spent the weekend doing coke off hookers’ asses until sunrise.

“And I went down on you in the casino?” I say. The words flew out of my mouth before I could stop them, wild and free and unfiltered. It felt good not to think, to not mine my words and hide the real person I kept locked up deep inside.

I look up from my menu to find his eyes searing into mine.

“What can I get for you, Tommy?” the waitress asks. She smiles at him sweetly and the connection between us is broken.

“I’ll have a turkey club, Molly,” he says.

I don’t know the waitress, but the way she stares at me says that she knows me. “And you?” she asks.

“The veggie burger,” I say.

Tom shakes his head. “Dr. Do-gooder.”

After the diner, we take a slow ride out on Route 5. He gives me his helmet, the way he always used to, and we ride together as if no time was lost between us. Even though he doesn’t say anything, I know where he is heading–the quarry. I had been there with him too many times before.

As the sun rises, I can see how it looks the same: rocks, and cliffs, and the remnants of young kids with too much time and not enough to do. Tom retrieves a blanket from his saddlebag and lays it out. He sits down and offers me a hand to do the same. You can spend years trying to forget things, pretending that feelings don’t exist, but when your past rides back into your life, it’s impossible to turn away.

I settle myself next to him. He is so close that I can hear him breathe. With my heart pounding and sweat glistening my palms, I turn to face him. He is right there, leaning in for a kiss, and my body electrifies with his scent, his touch, and his hot breath scorching my mouth. We break for a moment and stare into each other’s eyes. My body screams Yes, but my mind says No. Never again.

“Don’t think about it, Aubrey,” he says as if reading my mind.

I sigh and a slick tear escapes my eye. He kisses me again, wet and hot. Arousal rips through me, bruising my over thinking brain into following along.

First my pants, then his, drop to the dry rock bed. He slides down between my legs, and with my pussy already dripping with anticipation, he laps his tongue into my folds. In that one hot decided second, I am the old Aubrey, the wild bad girl once again.

“Fuck, Tom,” I say grabbing fistfuls of his hair.

In what seems like minutes, my juices ooze, and I am coming, his mouth teasing and tasting and rolling over my clit until I can stand it no more. With my legs shaking from orgasm, he scales my body and kisses me. I can taste myself on his lips, and I feel something snap inside, twisting me into a primal version of the girl I tried so hard to run from. I reach and feel Tom’s cock, rock-hard in my hand. I put my lips to his fat head and gobble him up as if I was starving.

“God, Aubrey,” he moans.

He reaches under my arms and pulls me up so that my crotch is level with his throbbing cock. We don’t stop to consider a condom. I straddle him and lower my dripping snatch on to him, rising and falling, with a rhythm that smacks my clit so fiercely that I again feel my pleasure build. Faster and faster, I pump on his cock. He squeezes my breasts, holding me in place while I fuck him into oblivion. Whiteness slips behind my eyes, and my pussy puckers as another mind-blowing orgasm rips through me.

“I’m coming!” I scream.

The veins in his neck pop as he thrusts himself deep inside me. He stiffens and groans and I feel hot cum shoot into me. I collapse onto him, our chests heaving together as our sweat mingles and slips down our satisfied bodies.

***

We dress in silence. I feel a heaviness that tells me I’ve made a mistake.

“Can I see you again?” he asks.

I discard my ripped panties alongside the empty bottles of fun had before us.

“I have to go see my dad, Tom,” I say, and pull up my jeans.

Tom nods and I see him slip away from me, taking shelter behind the hardness of his cut.

“Can you drop me?” I ask.

He smiles. “Sure.”

We ride again in silence and as the morning sun shines down on us, we are raw and exposed and guilty. I could have stopped, said no, ridden back to town with him and never looked back. My life with him was over, forgotten and charred, never to breathe life again. All this going too deep, too soon—like teenagers, free of limits and full of abandon, scares me to my bones.

Tom pulls over outside the hospital and I hop off.

“I’ll call you,” I say.

“You better,” he says.

I lean in for a goodbye kiss, and he grabs the back of my head and yanks me toward him. His hot mouth devours me and I feel what little control I’ve gained for myself start to slip away.

“Call me,” he says and crushes his forehead to mine.

I nod. “I will,” I whisper and yank myself away from his embrace. I don’t look back, and when I enter the hospital and walk the long hall to ICU, I hear the faint roar of his bike start up and peel away.

I find my mother in the room with my father. Her face twists when she sees me. “Where have you been?” she asks. “The nurse said you came last night and didn’t visit with your poor father. What’s wrong with you, Aubrey?”

Yes, what’s wrong with me indeed? I move past her and stand at the foot of my father’s bed. He stirs and reaches for me. I sit by the bed. Tears find their way out of my eyes. “Hi, Daddy,” I say, taking his hand in my own.

“Aubrey,” he says, his voice strained. “My dear, girl. You’ve come home.”

“Yes, Daddy. I’ve come to see you.”

“She’s been here since yesterday, Buddy,” my mom says. “Not that she cared enough to come by the house.”

I turn to my mother and watch as disgust washes over her face.

“Aubrey, my little girl, Aubrey,” my dad says as he slips into a fitful sleep.

I squeeze his hand lightly, tears falling from my eyes and stinging my cheeks. I did this, me, when I was too young, yet old enough to know better. My mother glares at me.

“What, Mom?”

She doesn’t say anything and huffs out of the room. Hours pass painfully until nightfall. My father stirs but doesn’t wake. The tubes in his body, the machines monitoring his heart, his pulse, his very grasp on this world, buzz and blink and wheeze. It had been too long since I had seen him last, my college graduation, his health declining then. He walked slower, stayed angry longer, and happiness wasn’t a concern of his any more.

“I’m sorry, Daddy,” I whisper to him. “I’m sorry for making things so much harder.”

Without warning, he opens his eyes.

“Aubrey,” he says softly.

“Daddy?” I say and lean over him. “I’m here, Daddy.”

“That boy, he’s out.”

“Tom? Do you mean Tom?” I ask. “Yes, I know.”

“Have you seen him?” my father asks with earnest.

In the past, I’ve lied without hesitation. Now, with him lying shriveled and weak, I don’t want Aubrey, the bad girl, to use her tricks. “I have, Daddy, briefly, last night.”

“Oh, no, no, no,” he whimpers. His face drains of what little color it held. “No, Aubrey.” The machine monitoring his heart blips. “He’ll ruin you again.”

“No, Daddy, I’m grown up now. I have a good life,” I say, but inside I don’t feel the belief in my words latch the way they should.

“He’s the devil,” he grunts. “I will not let him get my daughter again,” he says, throwing the covers off and grabbing the bed rails.

I watch the machine. The blips turn to beeps. I hold his shoulders and try to get him to lie back. “Daddy, you need to rest,” I plead with him. He pulls the oxygen cord out of his nose and rips the electrodes off his chest. The machines erupt with alarms. “Daddy, please,” I beg.

The floor nurses and my mother rush into the room. “Move away, Miss,” the lead nurse says to me.

“What on earth happened?” my mother asks.

“I don’t know,” I say. “He woke up and started talking.”

“What did you say to him?” Anger washes over her face.

“Nothing. Just—,“ I start as tears stream down my face.

“Stay away from my daughter, Tom Sully. You hear me?” my father hollers into the night. “I’ll kill you if you come near her again.”

“Tom Sully? You mentioned Tom Sully? How could you?” my mother accuses. “Do you have any shame?”

I back away from the bed. “He asked me if I saw him. I couldn’t lie.”

“Was that where you were last night? With Tom Sully?” My mother paces the floor in front of the bed. “That boy haunts your father still to this day, and you choose now, of all times, to tell the truth?”

“I’m sorry, Mom,” I say.

“Just leave us alone, Aubrey. You’ll never change. You’ll hurt people your whole life,” she spits.

“Mom, please. I want to stay with him.”

“I said leave.”

The nurses bring my father to stability. His breathing returns to normal and he slips into a strained sleep.

“I’m sorry,” is all I say as I slip quietly out the door.

***

Outside the hospital, in the still night air, I punch Tom’s number into my phone. “Come get me,” I say.

“You bet, baby,” is all he says before the line buzzes dead.

I wait for Tom under the bus stop awning, my head swirling with images of my dying father and the venomous words of my mother ringing in my ears. You’ll never change, Aubrey. You’ll hurt people your whole life. Moms are supposed to lift up, not tear down. I say this to myself over and over, but the stings are already scarring.

An orderly walks up smoking a cigarette. He’s tall and built and the kind I would find myself under when I couldn’t live inside my own skin. He moves behind me and sits on the bench. I look over at him and nod. “Got another one of those,” I ask motioning to his cigarette.

“You don’t look like a smoker,” he says.

“I used to be,” I say and reach for the smoke sticking out of the pack. He holds up a light and I lean in and inhale my cigarette alive.

“Why’d you quit?” he asks.

The smoke burns my throat on its way to filling my lungs. “I turned a new leaf, I guess.”

He chuckles. “People don’t change, sweetheart.”

“That’s true,” I say. “But you can’t blame a girl for trying.” I hold out my hand. “I’m Aubrey,” I say.

He takes it and shakes it. “Bob. Nice to meet you Aubrey Watts.”

When I look at him, shocked knowing that I never mentioned my last name, he merely says, “Small town.”

“Too small,” I say.

I hear Tom rumble up the road.

“Your ride’s here, sweetheart.”

I smile. “Thanks for the smoke, Bob,” I say, and run away from my near miss encounter, right into the arms of the only sure thing I ever had in my life. I crush Tom with a hug, not wanting to let go.

“How’s your dad?” he asks.

“The same,” is all I offer. I climb on his bike and fasten my helmet. “Got any coke?” I ask.

He looks back at me, baffled. “You serious?”

“Abso-fucking-lutely,” I say.

“What about your sobriety?” he asks. “Why now?”

“Because people never change, Tom.” I can see the concern on his face. “Is that a No?” I say, not wavering.

“If it’s what you want, I can get you coke, Aubrey.”

“Good, let’s go.”

We ride through the silent streets. Tom feels so right in my arms. The years lost between us prick my heart. I want to curl up and wait for the storm to pass.

When we pull up to the Las Verdes Motel, Tom parks and gets off, and motions for me to do the same. “You’re taking me to a shitty motel?” I ask. “How nice of you.”

“We own this place. It’s the new Verde clubhouse and our first legit business,” he says. “But tonight, we’re having a party.”

We enter the lobby and find a group of club members milling about. None I recognize, but they all seem to know me. The Sergeant of Arms, the man who goes everywhere the club president goes, looks annoyed that Tom stole away with me without body protection.