Chapter 8 #2
I tense, not sure I’m ready to share the secret I promised to take to the grave, though everyone involved is dead now. Still...
“My mom died. It was just her and me. My dad was never in the picture. His name’s on my birth certificate, but that’s all.”
“You never thought about looking for him?”
I shrug. “Why? He didn’t care about me when my mom was alive. Besides, I’m not sure he’d be happy to have a club whore knock on his door calling him daddy.”
“I mean, some people get off on that kind of thing,” she teases.
“Eww, gross.” I grimace, taking the coffee from the barista when he calls my name.
“Anyway, my mom left me a number to call when she was gone. I called, and Rock answered. He came to get me, took me back to the Chaos Demons clubhouse, and the rest is history.”
“Jesus. How old were you?”
I take a sip of my coffee before dodging her question. “That’s enough about me. How’d you end up with the Ravens?” Both me and Lil have always been tight-lipped about our pasts, but I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t curious about her.
She blows out a breath after grabbing her coffee and holds the door open while I place my cup in the cupholder and maneuver the stroller outside.
“I had very devout parents––somewhat similar to G’s parents. They were zealots, no two ways about it. I had to do everything their way, or they would say I was being led astray by the devil.
“We were dirt poor, lived in a rambling shack without running water or electricity. I hated it Legs. When I turned eighteen, I left with nothing but a backpack of clothes and a pocketful of dreams, and what can I say? I got a taste of freedom, and I loved it. I’ll admit, I went a little wild, but after a couple of years, I started taking classes at the local college after I decided I wanted to be a nurse.
Money was tight, but I worked hard and partied harder.
“When an internship came up at the hospital down here, I jumped at the chance. I needed a change of scenery, you know?” Her smile is forced, her eyes blank, telling me without words that there is so much more to the story, but I don’t push.
She’s already telling me far more than I thought she would.
She’ll tell me the rest when she’s ready.
“One of the nurses I worked with invited me to a party at the clubhouse, and that was that. I never really left. I finally felt that sense of family here that I was missing.. I got to sow my wild oats without judgment, and I didn’t have to worry about starving while I did it. I was happy,” she whispers.
“Was?”
“I mean, am.” She smiles, but it doesn’t reach her eyes.
Knowing I’m not buying it, she sighs. “Stuff happened that fucked up my happiness, it always fucking does, but I’m getting help.
I might not be a little Miss Sassy Pants anymore, but I’m doing better.
Honestly, I’m not sure how much of that act was just a persona anyway. ” She shrugs.
“Better is good.”
“Actually, better is great because, for a long time, everything just seemed to be getting worse. Working at the shelter helps. I can see I’m making a difference. It makes me feel good about myself, and that’s what I need right now.
“I’m glad you have that. And I’m here if you ever want to talk. I’m a really good listener, and I swear, whatever you tell me stays between us.”
“Thanks, Legs. I’m glad you decided to stay.”
I smile. If she noticed I didn’t return her sentiment, she didn’t call me out on it.
I’m not unhappy, so that’s got to count for something.
But that gnawing feeling inside me that tells me I’m missing out grows bigger every day.
I’m worried that if I don’t find something to satisfy it, it will swallow me whole.
After a long day of shopping, we head home and drop off a happy Alex with Sunshine before making our way to the saloon. The moment we step inside and Kruger spots us, he calls us over and ropes us into play pool with him.
Six games later, I sink the eight ball, making Kruger groan. “Every fucking time. I swear you two are pool sharks.”
I look at Lil and grin. Between the two of us, we’ve won all but one game.
“Do something often enough, Kruger, and you’ll master it.”
I feel hands on my hips, so I look over my shoulder and see Midas looking down at me with his fuck-me eyes.
“Guess that’s why pool isn’t the only thing you’re good at,” he growls into my ear.
I chuckle and turn away, handing Kruger the cue.
“Oh, come on, best seven out of ten.”
“Your problem, Kruger, is you don’t know when to admit defeat,” I tease as Midas grinds his hard dick into my ass. “Besides, something popped up, and Midas needs me.”
“I just bet it did,” he grumbles, turning to Lil. “How about a little one-on-one?” he asks her as Midas leads me away.
Midas pulls me out of the saloon and into the nook under the stairs. “Press your hands against the wall and stick your ass out, Legs.” His voice sends tingles down my spine, but this time I ignore them.
When I came to Raven’s, I didn’t know what to expect. I was nursing a bruised heart and feeling sorry for myself, so I swore I would never let anyone in again. Keeping them at arm’s length was better for my sanity in the long run.
The problem is, I never expected to meet a man like Midas the day I landed here, like some fucked-up case of serendipity.
I’m coming to hate this game we’re playing, one where the stakes are high and the rewards are low, but every time I try to pull free, he tightens his grip.
The only comfort I have is knowing he’s stuck in the same weird limbo as me—unable to move forward but unwilling to step back.
A slap on my ass drags me out of my thoughts.
“I’m sorry, Legs. Am I boring you?” Midas hisses before shoving my short skirt up over my ass and ripping my thong from my body with a loud snap.
“No, of course not.”
“Good, because I’d hate to have to punish you.” He thrusts two fingers inside me, making me gasp, and finds me wet and ready like always.
“Your punishments aren’t much of a threat,” I tease. Being spanked might not be my favorite thing in the world, but I always come hard afterward.
“Hmm…” he hums, thrusting his fingers in and out of me. “I guess I’ll just have to think of something else, then.”
Shit. Me and my big mouth.
“As far as I know, I haven’t done anything wrong,” I pant.
“You were gone for hours, Legs. I don’t like it when you do that.”
I huff out a laugh, which quickly turns into a moan when he thrusts his fingers into me harder. “It was my day off, and I have a life, Midas.”
“Is that right?” He pulls his fingers free and reaches around, pressing them to my lips. “Open.”
I open my mouth, letting him slip them past my lips. Tasting myself, I suck them clean as I feel him pull his cock out of his jeans and press the tip against me.
“You want me to fuck you hard, Legs?” he asks, taking his fingers from my mouth.
I nod. “Yes, Midas, fuck me hard.”
“If the lady insists,” he replies, thrusting deep inside me, and I bite my lip to keep from screaming.
He grips my hips and fucks me hard, just like he promised. I hold on to the wall for support as my legs start to feel like jelly.
“So fucking good.” He punctuates each word with a thrust, making me cry out. “Don’t you dare come, Legs. Not until I tell you to.”
I whimper. “Oh, God.”
“Just Midas will do,” he jokes, picking up the pace.
I feel the heat building inside me, coaxing me to let go, but I hold back.
“Midas, I need to come.”
“Not yet, Legs. Don’t you fucking come yet,” he snarls, thrusting deeper. I wince as he hits a particular tender spot.
I try to hold on, fighting with everything I have. But I can’t and cry out in defeat. I’m going to come any second, and I won’t be able to hold it back any more than I could put out a fire with vodka.
“Fuck,” he curses, stilling deep inside me as he comes hard. “Now, Legs. Come all over my cock, baby.”
I don’t need him to tell me twice. Reaching down, I pinch my clit, and I’m coming, too.
My eyes roll back, and I see stars. And for a moment, everything beyond my pleasure fades into white noise.
When he pulls out, I hiss, which makes him chuckle. That’s when I realize how wet I am.
“Um… Midas? Did the condom break?”
“I wasn’t wearing one. I can’t have kids, and I know you always use condoms with everyone else. I do, too.”
I swallow my anger at him taking the decision out of my hands when it’s my goddamn body. But that’s not really true, is it? It hasn’t been my body since Rock took me in and turned me into a whore.
I turn to face him, tugging my skirt back down to cover myself. “You can’t have kids?”
He shakes his head. “Got sick when I was a teenager. It made me sterile.”
“I’m sorry.”
“I’ve gotta get back out there. Church is gonna start soon.”
He’s gone before I can say anything else, leaving me standing in the dark with his cum dripping down my thighs.
I close my eyes and drop my head. It’s hard not to feel the blow his words landed.
Yeah, he might not have made me any promises, the opposite in fact, but that dreamer inside me couldn’t help but maybe picture little babies someday with Midas’ eyes and my smile.
I bite my lip, the pain helping to keep my tears at bay.
It’s a ridiculous notion, crying for the loss of something that was never mine to have anyway, so why does it feel like another nail in this coffin made for two?
Not wanting to head back to the saloon like this, I swipe a lone tear and duck into the restroom to clean myself up.
I use toilet paper to wipe the cum from between my legs before washing my hands.
I stare at my reflection in the mirror. If my damp thighs weren’t enough of a reminder, my flushed skin and messy hair are all proof that I’ve just been freshly fucked.
Reaching up, I run my fingers through the mess, trying to finger-comb it, but give up when I realize I’m making it worse. With a sigh, I splash some cold water on my face, then grab a couple paper towels to pat it dry before looking back at myself.
“That’s about as good as it’s going to get,” I mutter. Not that I look bad. If I have one thing going for me, it’s how I look. My mother taught me the importance of looking good after all and how to wield it like a weapon, though I have to admit, I seem to be the only one who winds up getting hurt.
I take a step back so I can see more of myself in the mirror. My body’s still tight and trim. I work out to keep it that way—genes or not. I won’t take any chances; the club would get rid of me if I weren’t desirable anymore.
My cropped AC/DC T-shirt shows my flat, tanned stomach, while my D-cups strain against the material. The low waist of my short denim skirt shows my belly ring. Looking higher, I glance at my long blonde hair, the same shade as my mother’s used to be, before I look into my blue eyes.
I look away quickly. There’s something about staring in the mirror that always leaves me feeling ashamed. I flash back to my teenage years. I had very little choice in what happened, and any shame meted out wasn’t mine to carry.
But I’m not that little girl anymore. And here I am, years later, with another man’s cum running down my legs and pain in my chest at the knowledge that nothing has changed. Sometimes, I think it was easier when I had someone else to blame for my circumstances because now I only have myself.
Which is why looking in the mirror is as fun as visiting the dentist. Nobody judges you more than the younger version of yourself you failed.