Steel Me Away (2 page)

Emmy

My thoughts were too jumbled for dreams.  Old memories bobbed to the surface, popping up like dolphins for air.

I floated on the edge of sleep, remembering how Andy and I used to spend summer nights in the tent in our backyard.

It was a treat to be out of our house just as much as it was a treat for our parents to be rid of us.  Even though we were only fifty feet away from my parents' arguments, it felt worlds away. 

It was peaceful.

Andy was the first person in my life to know how and when I needed silence.  Our excited conversation would die away as the darkness settled over our tent, each of us retreating to our own private world. I would snuggle down with my head in my sleeping bag and pretend I was far away from all the turmoil of my childhood.  And Andy would lie there quietly, listening to my breath as I listened to his.  I would know he was there, and it was all the comfort I needed.

No words required.

The cool summer air would ruffle the flaps of the green tent and I would dream peaceful dreams.  Until the watery light of dawn started to seep through the fabric walls.

Most of the time it wasn't the light that would wake me.  It was what happened before the light as the birds stirred to wake the dawn. The
dawn chorus
they called it in Girl Scouts.  The stirrings and shivering of the world coming alive to greet the new day.

If the dawn chorus of the countryside is the chirping of birds, then the dawn chorus of a biker clubhouse is the hacking cough of a smoker clearing his lungs.

My eyes flew open in a panic.  J's arms had slipped from me in the wee hours of the morning, no longer holding my terror at bay on their own.  But I sighed in relief when I saw I wasn't in the penthouse.

I was in the Sons of Steel clubhouse.  And it was the morning after my whole world had exploded.

"Fuck," Crash swore as he banged his bad leg into my cot.

"Sorry," I apologized.  J. had shoved two cots together after we had made love last night. As it was, there was barely enough room for the two of us, and what was worse was that J.'s cot now stuck out right in to the center of the bunk room.  Right in Crash's way as he humped his bad leg around us to get to the bathroom. 

Case moaned as he rolled over, and I squirmed in sympathy.  I couldn't imagine how much pain he was in.  Cracked ribs, Doctor D. had said.  He was lucky they weren't fractured all the way through.  He could have ended up with a punctured lung.  I felt a harsh pang of guilt in my chest when I remembered why he was in pain.   The whole club had jumped in to defend J. and me.  Six brave men against four times that amount.  And somehow they had held their own.

Case flopped back onto his back with a loud groan, and J. stirred next to me.

I rolled back to face the plywood wall and closed my eyes, even though I knew sleep was futile.

J. groaned and shifted onto
his side.  The sagging cot bowed in the middle and I fell into the space, flopping into him gracelessly.

"Oof," I groaned, my words thick and muzzy with sleep.  "Sorry." J. didn't move.

There was a loud clatter and light pierced my eyeballs.  I clapped my hands over my face, but J. still didn't stir.  I looked at him, wondering how he managed to sleep through the growing racket. He was flopped awkwardly on his belly, arm flung over the side of the cot, fingers splayed on the floor. I was still wedged between him and the wall.  My arms were pinned so closely to my sides that I was suctioned together with sweat.  In spite of this he still looked ready to fall off the side.

I lifted my head to see what the clatter was.  Crash had opened the door to the bunk area on his way to the bathroom. I could see across the huge space of the attached garage to the rolltop doors.  They now stood wide open to let the cool,  early morning air in.  The penetrating light drilled right into my eyeballs.

I seemed destined to face east.  From penthouse to clubhouse, the morning sun always found a way to fuck with me personally.

I squinted and lifted my head further, trying not to disturb J.'s comatose form.  Crash and Mac were already up
. They stood just outside of the garage, ducking over their first cigarettes of the morning.  The smell wafted towards me, as did the sound of muttered conversation.  It rumbled too low under the noise of dawn's traffic for me to hear.

J
. shifted and overbalanced.  I squeaked, but his arm flew out and caught him before his eyes could even fly open in surprise.  I grabbed his shoulder from the other side and helped him haul himself back onto the cot.

"Hey there," he blinked at me.  "You doin' better?"

"Good morning," I croaked, feeling suddenly shy.  "Yeah, thank you.  Things are better in the day time."

He certainly was.  The steamy heat of the clubhouse had left his bare torso coated in a fine sheen of sweat.  I knew that if I bent my lips to his smooth, chocolate skin, they would come back salty and sweet.

And since he was mine, I did just that.

Then I licked him a little. 

Just because I could.

"Well hey there," he chuckled, dimpling into a soft smile. 

His lips on mine were as warm and welcoming as I knew they'd be.  I traced the warmth of his skin with my fingertips, letting them run along the outlines of the tattoos that mapped out the story of his life on his torso. 

"You're really nice to touch," I said without meaning to, and then felt the flame of embarrassment heat my cheeks.

"So are you," he whispered.  I heard a cough and then the clearing of a throat.  The door to the bunkhouse slammed shut with a bang and the plywood walls shook with the impact.  I blushed harder but he kissed it away.

"Wait...." I squeaked as he pulled himself on top of me.  But his lips silenced my protests.  He didn't care that I hadn't showered yet, hadn't brushed my teeth, hadn't brushed my hair.  I was as tousled and disheveled as a person could be, but my biker didn't care one whit about that.  The dance of his fingers down my belly to my warm secret place let me know exactly how little he cared about anything else.

I sighed and pressed myself upwards into his hands, but he didn't need my direction.  His fingers moved down and slid inside of me like they belonged there.  I gasped as he began to move them in and out, all the while his lips moved down to meet them.

"Why are you so good?" I groaned, rocking myself back and forth in the rhythm of my own desire.

"You make me good," he grinned at me, his dimples deepening in his sculpted cheeks.  The emerald fire of his eyes was blazing brightly.  "Baby girl, you make me wanna be a better man."

"You're already the best man I know," I protested, arching my body towards his.  My brain wanted him to say more, but my body had its own ideas. I tried to sit up and meet him.  I wanted to take him into my arms and explore his body with the same care and precision as he was exploring mine. But the motion of his fingers had me helpless.  I weakened and fell back moaning.

He took his cue.  Kneeling above me, he thrust swiftly, sliding into the entrance that was still wet from last night's love.  I wrapped my legs around him to pull him higher, deeper, to keep him right there where he belonged. 

"Emmy," he groaned.  "Damn you feel good." He rolled his hips around and I stifled a scream.

"Make me come, J." I heard myself say brazenly.  "I want to come for you."

He sat up, kneeling above me and pulled my hips down.  Deepening his thrust,  he pressed an authoritative thumb on my buzzing nub. 

"Go ahead and come, baby
,”
he said.  "I'm gonna watch you while you do."

His voice thrilled through me, sending me vibrating.  My breath caught in my throat as the motion of him dragged me nearer and nearer to the peak.  He pressed harder, moving his finger in just the right rhythm.  I felt my muscles bunch and twitch. 

"I'm coming," I gasped, startled by how quickly he brought me to the edge.  "Holy shit!"

My legs shot out straight as the wave of electricity burst through me.  Through the haze of my pleasure I could see him watch me, his lips parted in awe as he saw me writhe and moan below him. Seeing him see me like that only heightened the intensity of my sensation. 

"J.!" I cried, sitting bolt upright and flinging my arms around him.  He crashed down on top of me and squeezed me tightly as he pumped his release inside of me.  He stifled his strangled cry in my neck, his breath hot against my earlobe.  I shuddered out the last spasm of my own release and clasped him to me.

We were slick with sweat and juices, our bodies fused together.  "Don't get up," I whispered.  "Stay right here."  I felt the last pulse of him as he retreated from inside of me and felt suddenly cold and empty without him there.

I heard him breath and relax and my chest was crushed under the granite rock of his weight.  His breath was slow and regular and I wondered if he had fallen back to sleep.

"J.?" I whispered.

"Am I crushing you?" he asked.  But he didn't move.

"A little," I acknowledged.  "But in a good way."

He groaned and rolled to the side.  I was suddenly freezing in the heat of the room, the air cold against my sweat-heated skin.  I yanked at the coiled sheet and threw it over my head.

"You hidin' from me?" he teased from outside my cocoon.

I peeked out at him.  "It's cold without you inside of me."

He chuckled and slid his hand down between my legs.  "Does that help?"

I squeezed my thighs together.  "Yes.  Now you're trapped.  You can never leave."

He pretended to yank his hand away and fail.  "Damn, looks like you're right.  Guess I'll have to stay here forever."

"Kiss me, J.," I demanded. 

He obliged me in the most soul-melting way.  When he finally broke away, I couldn't help but let a small whine of disappointment escape my lips. 

He laughed, brushing my hair back from my eyes.  "I promise there's more where that came from, greedy girl." 

He slipped from the cot and stretched to his full height, completely unashamed of his nakedness.  When he extended his hand to me, I tried to mimic his same confidence and found that, strangely, it worked.  I was completely nude.  The rest of the club moved just outside the plywood walls.  Someone could walk in on us at any moment. 

"I'm sticky," J. said, touching his rippling abs in disgust.  "I need a shower."  He snagged my hand in an iron grip.  "You're coming with me."

"I'm naked!" I squeaked.  I may have changed since meeting him, but not into a girl who would parade naked through a biker clubhouse.

"Aw, but I prefer you that way," he grumbled, but obligingly grabbed my grubby clothes from the floor.  We both dressed.  I couldn't keep my eyes off of him.  HIs dark skin had so many facets to it, deep shimmering colors of eggplant, ebony and chocolate.  I was reminded of my brief stint next to Sammie in our Ceramics 101 class.  I hated molding the clay, but I loved working with the deep pigments of the glazes.  J.'s smooth skin could have been painted the same way.

The thing about glazes is that you have to fire them in order for the color to burst forth. It took intense heat to reveal the wonder.  I pressed my lips together, imagining all turmoil that had come before me.  The kiln that had fired J.

"You look serious."  He had been watching me watch him.

"There's so much I want to know about you," I confessed.

His grin was slow and crooked, almost rueful.  "We've got time," he said, grasping my wrist.  "But right now I've got other ideas."

Emmy

We were so long in the shower that the hot water ran out.  I emerged shivering, but not with cold.

"You liked that, hmm?" His seductive voice in my ear sent yet another thrill down my spine, re-awakening my already overstimulated nerve endings.  When I shivered, he caught me close, pressing himself into the cleft of my buttocks.

"You're gonna kill me," I moaned. I wondered just how many orgasms I could have in the span of a morning.

"Well I don't want that."  And with a brisk movement, he had me wrapped sweetly in a towel and kissed my forehead.  When I looked up at him bewildered, he laughed.  "Can't you smell that?  It's breakfast time.  I need to replace some calories."

As soon as he said it, the rich, heady scent of scrambled eggs hit my nose.  And even better than that, "Is that?  Coffee?"

I sniffed eagerly and made a dive for my backpack, pulling out the last clean T-shirt I had packed.  My jeans were on their last legs, but I decided I could get one more day out of them before they were able to stand up and walk on their own.

We joined the bleary eyed jostle on the way to the kitchen. Everyone had been living at the clubhouse since the fight with the Storm Riders, and that included Mallory, Teach's old lady.  She was bustling around the slapdash kitchen, a whirl of tiny, contained energy.   When I saw her surreptitiously wipe her brow, I felt a rush of sympathy. "Mal, can I help?"

She turned nimbly, deftly beating more eggs in a plastic bowl.  "Morning Emmy.  Butter the toast when it dings, will you?"

I grinned at J., who was watching me with an amused smile on his face, and went to the refrigerator.  It was stuffed full of Yuengling bottles, but after a moment's panic, I located the butter on the door.  Feeling unduly proud for having found it, I rattled through the drawers in search of a knife.  The toaster dinged just as I located a serviceable one under a pile of parts catalogs and an old wrench.

"You makin' eggs Mal?" Crash called from across the garage, his loud, boisterous voice echoing off the ceiling.  "I can smell your eggs!"

"That boy makes even the most innocent comment sound filthy," she announced to no one in particular.  Her head was bent to her eggs, patiently pushing them around the huge frying pan. I laughed. She looked up and then nodded, a warm smile spreading her smooth caramel cheeks.

"Look at you," J. cupped his hands around my ass and peered over my shoulder as I formed my little toast assembly line.

I bopped him lightly on the nose.  "I'm making toast.  This is important work, and you're hampering my progress."

He chuckled and pulled back.  "Fine, I'm getting coffee," he yawned.

"Coffee's almost done, J." Mallory called as she spooned eggs onto eight plates.  It made my heart feel oddly full to see that she was making a plate for me. "Have a seat." She moved around the table to the place next to Teach, who squeezed her butt fondly as she sat down. 

J. was still blinking at the coffee maker.  I didn't want to sit down without him. 

My hesitation must have been obvious. "Why you holding up the wall, Em?" Case called.

"Um," I looked at the whole club, crammed around the folding table.  Teach and Mal both had the dignity of folding chairs.  The rest of us had to cram shoulder to shoulder on the long benches left over from a long defunct picnic table.  "No room."

"Well fuck, why didn't you say something?  Shove over, asshole."  He pushed Crash, who was bent nearly double over his eggs, shoveling them into his face so rapidly his hand was a blur.

"Fuck," Crash complained, but grumblingly slid over on the bench.

J. approached with his coffee cradled in his hands.  "We need a bigger table," he observed.

"It ain't usually all of us here eatin' at once," Doctor D. mused.  "That's the problem."

"It's fine, I can stand," J. agreed, leaning his long frame against the counter.  My heart sank.  I wanted him next to me.  But Case and Crash had already cleared me room, it would be rude not to sit. So I wedged myself in between them, self-conscious about my arms rubbing against them. I squeezed my thighs together, willing my hips to shrink. 

"Well I don't mind this at all," Case said with a wicked grin. 

I didn't have room to smack him, so I had to content myself with shoving him.

"Didn't mind that either," he announced.

"Watch it," J. called warningly.

Case smiled innocently, a boy caught with his hand in the cookie jar.  "I was only making an observation.  I meant nothing by it, my good sir."

"Don't you sir me."

"Right, only proper gentleman should be addressed as sir."

"Where'd you learn that, at your proper English boarding school?" 

Case laughed so hard I was afraid he might choke.  The sight of him doubled over red-faced set Crash off, who laughed with his mouth open wide, little bits of egg falling out.  Doctor D. let out a short guffaw, Teach smiled and Mac shuffled a little in his seat.  I assumed that meant he was pleased.

I recognized the laughter.  It was the kind of wild abandon that could only hit you when things seemed most dire.  The release of unbearable tension.  I felt my own shoulders start to shake, and soon I was giggling like a schoolgirl as the three younger bikers pelted each other with bits of my carefully buttered toast.

"Proper English boarding school," Case repeated, wiping a tear from his eye and dissolving into snorting laughter again.  He ignored the piece of toast that landed in his beard.  "Fuck."

"Am I to assume you did
not
attend a proper English boarding school?"  I asked innocently.

"Pfft."

"And here you had me all fooled with your manners."

His face crumpled into helpless laughter again.  "My fucking sides hurt, you assholes.  Stop making me laugh."

The twinge of sympathy sobered me slightly and I ducked to finish my eggs before they ended up as food fight fodder. 

I felt hands on me and instantly knew them as J.'s "How'd you get over here?" I asked, lifting my head backwards for a kiss. 

He smiled crookedly.  "You get really focused when you eat."  His kiss squelched the blush that wanted to consume me.  "Never even grabbed your coffee.  Want me to get it?"

I nodded, touched at his thoughtfulness.  "Thank you," I breathed. 

As he moved away, he trailed his hands down my back as if reluctant to go.  He looked back over his shoulder as he stood at the counter waiting for the pot to brew.  I couldn't take my eyes off of him.  He was the only thing I could see.  And when the emerald fire flashed in his eyes, I knew that he only saw me.