Chapter 2 #3
“That’s it, Cora, fucking take it,” he grinds through clenched teeth.
And she does. Holding on for dear life as he tunnels into her used-up pussy until he’s pulling out, filling the condom outside of her cunt.
It’s something I’ve noticed he always does, even with his dick wrapped up, and knowing all the girls are on birth control, because Morgan makes sure of it, he never comes inside them.
A problem I don’t have to worry about. I snipped any possibility that there could be a baby Malice running around the clubhouse.
I’m enough death and destruction for one club.
Buckling his jeans back up, he smacks Cora’s ass in thanks and walks over to me, resting his forearms on the porch rail.
I take a long pull of the bubbly soda, the fizz hitting my tongue and sliding down my throat, sharp and sweet.
“Enjoy the show?”
“Yep. Already getting your dick wet, huh? Party just started,” I ask.
“I’m addicted to it. Warm, wet heat enveloping my cock.
Soft curves and long lines, pretty, pouty lips.
Who doesn’t want that shit as often as possible?
The day I stop fucking is the day the devil comes to bring me home.
” Wrath replies with a tilt of his lips.
He’s not wrong there. I fucking love sex.
It’s an outlet. An adrenaline purge. That’s all it’s ever been for me.
A means to a release. I don’t get that shit nearly as often as he does.
But I’m into darker shit than Wrath is. He’s an exhibitionist, and I’m one kinky fucker who won’t say no to anything.
Men, women, all sizes, all colors. I’ve got an appetite for it all, any way I can have it.
I bet if the planet were invaded by blue aliens, I’d find my way into an orgy on day one.
The floor vibrates under our boots as the music is turned up, laughter and voices tangling together until it’s impossible to tell where one ends and the other begins.
Leather cuts are everywhere, girls half naked, everyone with drinks in their hands.
Rolo stumbles out onto the porch, his tree trunk of an arm slung over Morgan’s shoulders.
“Hey, fuckers, pool time. Come get your asses kicked,” he barks. Wrath and I share a look, knowing we’re both better than him at the game. Following him into the house, we leave the cooler night air behind us and return to the sticky heat of the clubhouse.
The party has fully tipped past the point of no return, and I know even the heavy scent of cigarette smoke and alcohol will cling to me until tomorrow, thick and pungent.
The noise is thundering, and I have to constantly fight to stay firmly rooted in the present, with the clubhouse roaring with life around me, because it’s the only place I’m supposed to be.
The metal of the cage rattles from the force of the kick. I press myself to the far corner as much as I can, wrapping my arms around my shins, burying my head into my knees as I rock.
Back and forth.
Back and forth.
Back and forth.
The blanket draped over the top keeps me shrouded in darkness, but I blink anyway, trying to focus.
It’s always dark. Never any light. Never any sunshine.
Never any warmth. I pull my bare legs closer to my chest. It’s always cold.
Why isn’t there any heat? Why can’t I get warm?
I stopped wondering a long time ago what it would feel like to be held, to be comforted and safe. All I know is pain. Cold. Fear.
Why doesn’t anyone come for me? Why doesn’t anyone care?
Back and forth.
Back and forth.
Back and forth.
The scent of smoke fills my nose, acrid and ashy, making my head swim and feel fuzzy.
Another kick to the cage, the piercing shatter of glass, the click of a lighter, the pop of a can.
Liquid trickles from the top, and my dry, cracked lips open wide enough for my parched tongue to lap at the fluid pooling in front of me. Bitter tang seeps in, and I dry heave.
Back and forth.
Back and forth.
Back and forth.
I wonder if freedom will ever come for me, or if I’ll be locked away forever.
“Mal! Mal! Malice, wake up, brother.”
I lurch forward, gripping the neck of the body in front of me and flipping him onto his back, my legs straddling his torso, my forearm pressing down on his windpipe.
“Crew! It’s Jesse!” he chokes, holding his hands out in front of him and not fighting me back. “Crew!”
My vision clears, looking down at the familiar face of my patch brother. Shit. I pull my arm off his airway; his coughs immediate.
“Man, get your fuckin’ dick off my chest, for fuck’s sake!” I look down at my body, and yep, sure as shit, I’m nude. “With how often you have nightmares, it’d be cool if you wore underwear from time to time. I’ve been telling you for over a decade.”
I climb off of Jesse, quickly pulling on a pair of boxer briefs. “Sorry,” I say, running my hands through my hair, only for it to stick right back up again.
“Don’t worry about it. You okay? I was having a drink when I heard you screaming.”
“Just another one. I’ll be fine.”
“You wanna talk about it?”
“Nah. Go back to Morgan. I’m good.”
Rolo nods, knowing better than to push.
Fuck these nightmares. Even after all these years, they’re still finding ways to torture me. My torment will never truly end.