Rev (24 page)

And with every passing second, my temper rises more and more. I find that I’m breathing heavy and my heart’s beating in my chest. My muscles strain and my hands ball into fists at my sides. Jeremy loses his interest in me and once again refocuses his energy into the television.

Cheyenne though, she doesn’t take her eyes off of me. Her face is turned down into a pout and she whispers, “Holly.”

But I’m already gone.

I’M TURNING OUT
of the driveway by the time Jeremy notices I’ve moved. He’s on the front porch with his phone to his ear. It’s maybe five minutes door to door at the most, but every block feels longer than the one that came before it. The sun is setting now and the Forsaken Custom Cycle lot comes into focus under the brilliant orange hue. The gates are open halfway but manned by a couple of prospects who I’ve learned are referred to by their stature—Tall and Squat. The parking lot is almost full. A few pick-up trucks and sedans take up the spots on the far side of the lot while there’s a line of more than twenty motorcycles butt up against the brick exterior of the clubhouse.

I pull my Jeep into an end spot and barely remember to put it in park and shut it off before I run across the lot and into the clubhouse. I can hear my name being called by one—or both—of the prospects. Grady said there was extra security because of the Italian guy—whose relationship to the club I’m still fuzzy on—but I have a feeling they’re not after me because I’ve shown up without a prospect. No, they probably have orders to keep the girlfriends at bay.

I pull open the heavy doors to the clubhouse and immediately find myself embroiled in a thick fog of sticky-sweet smoke with loud music thumping heavily from high-hung speakers. Directly in front of me sits a pair of men with leather vests. They have a bottle of vodka between them and a couple of shot glasses. One of them has a joint in his hand that he brings to his lips and takes a hit. Is this what Grady wanted to keep from me? That they’re sitting around getting high?

The men don’t pay me any attention as I walk further into the room. I wish I hadn’t. One woman is on another’s lap and she’s not wearing a single stitch of clothing, not even a pair of socks. The man at the table with them has another woman on his lap, straddling him. Her hands work furiously in his lap. I easily imagine she’s got a hold of his dick. The further I get into the depths of the clubhouse and the more obscene it gets. It isn’t until I see a woman on her knees who is actually giving a blow job out in the open that I turn around. Familiar faces dot the scenery. Ryan is watching some chick rub her own nipples. He watches but never reaches out and touches her. It’s an interesting sight considering the reputation he earned for his sexual prowess in high school. I seem to remember rumors that he’d screw anything that moved, but then again, maybe she’s not his type these days.

Just as I turn around, I’m faced with a gorgeous woman, who is surprisingly, fully dressed. She has dark skin and long black hair with large dark brown eyes. She’s got light stone washed blue jeans and a black tank above high heeled black boots.

“You look out of place,” she says. I give her a moment to continue, but she doesn’t.

“Have you seen Grady?” I ask. She eyes me from head to toe before smiling softly.

“He’s around here somewhere,” she says and shrugs her shoulders. “But you shouldn’t be here.”

“Who are you?” I ask.

“Elle,” she says. Her stare turns flat, “And you’re Holly. Like I said, you shouldn’t be here. Go home and play house. The shit that goes on in this place is nothing Grady wants you to see.”

“I don’t know you, so please forgive me if I’m not too keen on taking orders from you,” I say. If Grady has some random woman telling me to get lost, I should assume that I shouldn’t be here. Not because I don’t need to know what he’s up to, but because if it’s bad enough to be warned away, it’s likely nothing I want to see anyway.

“Well, I know Grady,” she says. “
Intimately
.” Of course she does. Of-fucking-course she does. There’s a tirade going off in my head, but only one word that sticks out and repeats itself again and again until I’m consumed by it.

Whore.

“Is there a reason you’re telling me this?” Being a woman, I already know the reason. We’re territorial creatures and we don’t like to lose a man to another woman. The only thing I can’t figure out is if she lost Grady to me or if I’m losing him to her.

“Wow, you’re slow. Grady is a particular man. He likes his women separate from his club,” Elle says. Her eyes lift over my shoulder and a devious smirk spreads across her face. I sense his approach before I see him. Elle is far too pleased with herself for it to be anybody else. I pull in a deep breath and do the best I can to stay strong in the face of this stupid drama of my own making.

“Hey,” he says from behind me. I turn around and come face to face with not only Grady, but four other club members as well. Ian, the guy who was with him when he rescued Mindy and I from that seawall is there, standing to his left. To his right is a huge bulking man with shoulder-length light brown hair, a strong brow, and a full beard. His leather vest has a patch that reads, V. PRESIDENT. Behind him and off to the side is a man with a shaved head and off to the other side is Josh Wilcox.

The smile on Grady’s face nearly splits in two as he lunges forward, wraps me in his arms and pulls me tight against him. Everything around me fades away and it’s just he and I. Elle, a woman who I don’t even know but surely dislike already, isn’t behind me. The loud music fades away as I bury my face in his neck. Breathing in the mixed scent of his sweat and the whiskey he’s obviously been drinking. I love this man, but he’s kind of a grouch. The only times I’ve seen him this happy are when he’s either three sheets to the wind or he’s scaring the crap out of Jeremy. Even when his muscles tense and he’s losing himself inside of me, he doesn’t look this happy.

“What are you doing here?” he says as he pulls back and cups my face with his hands. His warm, whiskey-laden breath washes over my face. His eyes are slightly unfocused and that stupid grin is still on his face. I give him a small smile in return. It's the best that I can manage right now.

"Can we talk?"

Josh comes around the side, let's the bottle of beer to his lips and knocks it back. He gives a disapproving shake of his head and walks away. Though Grady doesn't seem to be mad at me for showing up here, I'm guessing with this Rig guy just getting into town, the boys want to party, and even I can admit to any time a woman says she wants to talk, it's almost never a good thing.

Without another word, Grady leads me through the crowded, smoke-filled room, and down a long hallway. Double wooden doors with a fine inlay are at the very end of the hall. I've only heard a little bit about how the club works because I don't really ask many questions, but whatever is beyond those doors must be important. All of the other doors for hallway are basic would without any frills. The way I figure it is that what I need to know Grady will tell me and then everything else is not my business. I didn't get with Grady because of the bike he rides, or the leather on his shoulders – if anything, I got with him in spite of those things. Maybe one day I will be more interested in the way the club works, but for now I'm just trying to figure out how Grady works. Still, there are a few things I would like answers to. And I know I need to ask, even if I'm terrified of the answer.

Grady holds the door open for me. I step into the room and immediately feel unsettled. There's a queen-size bed in the corner of the room with two wooden chairs and a table on the other side. On top of the table is Grady's aftershave and deodorant. I recognize that they are the same brands and scents from his bathroom at home, so I can only assume they belong to him. As the Sergeant of Arms, I’m guessing this room is his. Why he would need a room here, I don’t even want to imagine. But I can’t help thinking about it. Wives and girlfriends don’t belong here. This place is only for the whores.

The door clicks shut behind me and finally, we are alone. He closes in and grabs me by my waist. His large hands knead at my supple curves. All of the tension, frustration, and fear start to dissipate. It's always like this when he's touching me. His right hand reaches around and unbuttons my jeans. He drags the zipper down slowly and slips his pointer finger into my panties. With light pressure, he rubs my center and creates a firestorm of need almost instantly. Falling into him and his touch is almost glorious. He consumes me in ways I almost fear and have trouble reasoning, but I welcome it. I welcome the slow build of tension in my belly and thighs. I welcome the strained, panty breaths and the way my fingers twitch as he applies more pressure.

“You weren’t supposed to be here,” he says and bucks his hips into my back. He’s already hard and I know that unless I put up a big fight we’re going to end up naked and breathless and totally lost in each other’s bodies. Jeremy’s cut, blackmailing Mr. Beck, and the secret party I wasn’t supposed to know about are all reasons I shouldn’t be giving in to him. But I do. I let him greedily dip his fingers into my swelling pussy. I don’t object to the rough thrusts of his fingers as he penetrates me. My skin erupts into a million tiny bumps just seconds before my limbs lock in place and every part of me goes numb except for my core. It’s there, at my center, that I feel everything. Every drag of his finger tips along my sensitive walls. Every ragged breath on my neck. Every shaky movement of his thumb at my clit. And I know it’s only a few seconds, but it feels like forever that I’m lost in that place between being alive and dead.

I want this with him more than I want anything else. I used to want to make my parents proud, and I wanted to get my life on track. I wanted to make something of myself. But with Grady, all I want is to exist. With him, I’m okay just being; content to live in the moment and not worry about what the world thinks and whether or not anyone thinks I’m a failure. Because if this man can love me as I am, then I’m determined to love myself as I am and not as I think I should be. I want a life with him and all that means. I want the chaos and the smart mouth teenager who I adore. I want his baggage and his hopes and dreams. I want his future and I want a little person that looks just like him and has a temper to match. I want sleepless nights and that permanent connection of sharing a child. I want him— all of him— and I want to give him all of me.

When I come back down, I’m panting like I’ve just run a race. I love it when he brings me to the edge quickly. It’s like being hit by a truck at high speeds. It happens so fast I almost don’t see it coming, but then it’s on me and the world melts away. He throws me off balance in a way I’m never prepared for.

But I came here pissed off for a reason. Not being told about the party, not being told about Jeremy prospecting for the club, and what that means for us are still a problem. If he’s not telling me these things, then what else is he not telling me? I don’t want to fight and I know from experience that we can fight for days. It’s almost never-ending. So instead of pushing him off me, I turn around and take control of the situation. My hands are on his chest as I walk him back to the wall.

“Why am I not supposed to be here?” I ask. I drag my hands slowly down his worn tee shirt beneath his cut and then let them dip to his belt where I work to undress him.

“Jeremy tell you I was here?” he asks. Through the whiskey fog he’s in, he seems to be taking my surprise arrival better than I expect he would have had he been sober.

“Why aren’t you answering my question?” I say. “Is there a reason you hid this from me?”

He reaches up and unbuttons my top slowly, but his eyes don’t leave mine.

“I got brothers doing shit in this place that I didn’t want you to see. Married men fucking two whores at a time, sadistic fuckers who get off having their dick sucked in front of their brothers. It’s crowded, not just my brothers here tonight, but a whole mess of guys from around here— some of them I don’t know, some of them I do— but I don’t trust any of them to treat you like they should.”

His honesty takes me aback. I expected some kind of macho shit about having a boys night and me minding my own business, but not this. He finishes with the last button and licks his lips at the sight of my breasts straining against the fabric of my bra.

“Because I’m your girlfriend?”

“No, Sweets,” he says on a whisper. Chills run up my spine by the intensity of his gaze. “I’m too old to have a girlfriend, but you belong to me.”

“I’m not an Old Lady,” I say. “I have to be voted in for that. I know that might not happen.”