Chapter 1
Cage – Age Twenty
I groan as I thrust my hips fast and hard before I bend over the bitch I’m fucking and grab the rolled-up dollar bill.
Not once stopping my stride, I place the end of the roll on her chest before I snort the cocaine, and a rush hits me.
Fuck me, that is good, add in her cunt squeezing me and I’m in euphoria…
“Cage, yes, baby…” Loz moans beneath me, and I lean down and take her nipple into my mouth, biting it hard. I piston my hips, our skin slapping loudly as she thrusts up, meeting me each time and I groan with pleasure against her nipple.
“Fuck, he’s a lucky fucker…” Someone groans while another questions, “If he left his club, then why does he still go by his road name? Loz just called him Cage.”
“Probably because he hates his legal name since some bitch killed his little sister. Now shut up, I’m trying to get off,” Scar, my close ally in here grunts. I swear if I wasn’t so fucking high on cocaine right now, I’d pull away from the bitch.
I don’t like any reminder of my family, of why I’ve gone downhill so fucking quickly.
Leslie, the corrections officer or screw as all us prisoners call her, grips my hair as I bite her nipple harder. Thrusting my hips quicker, my balls tighten and the bitch screams in pleasure as her walls tighten around my cock, making me groan louder.
“Fuck, that is hot,” someone moans, but I ignore them as her cunt squeezes me while her orgasm soaks between us. I lose my rhythm as my spine tingles before I quickly pull out.
Ripping the condom off, I lean over Leslie, who lifts her head before taking my cock into her mouth. I push forward to the back of her throat and come.
Her throat tightens around my cock as she swallows, I moan loudly, keeping my hips flush with her face, enjoying the sensation. She then reaches up to grip my ass cheeks, squeezing them, despite her gag reflex kicking in.
A rush flushes through me, the sex and cocaine sending me into oblivion, and my cock twitches again, wanting another round… and fuck, if I’m not going to listen.
Growling, I pull out of Leslie’s mouth as her eyes look up at me full of lust. I grip her underneath her armpits before I twist her onto her stomach.
She gasps before releasing a moan, when I grip her hips and yank her up. Without a care in the world, I place my cock head at her asshole before thrusting in hard and fast, and she screams again with pleasure.
I hear a murmur of lucky fucker echoing around me, but I don’t give a shit as I grab the other small packet of cocaine that she brought with her.
I tip it on her slick back before I grab the rolled-up dollar bill and just as I bring my hips back, I snort up the cocaine.
Enjoying the rush it gives me, I thrust hard and fast, giving the bitch the pleasure of a life time.
Fuck I love prison sometimes…
***
I gently rub my thumb over my bottom lip as I eye the visitor's door. My head is pounding like I’ve gone ten rounds in the ring in the basement because of the drugs I used last night.
I mean, I did bring it on myself, but fuck, last night was a good ass night. At least half the boys here with me got a good show.
I drop my head for a moment, ignoring everyone around me, trying to brace myself for the disappointment I’ll see in my father's eyes. Just like every time he’s come to visit me, it doesn’t matter how many times I tell him not to come, he doesn’t listen.
This is my second stint since I was eighteen. The first one, the day my sister was killed, and even though that day is a blur, waking up in the slammer covered in blood and bruises, because I’d apparently picked a fight and put a guy in a coma is still forefront in my mind.
I was sentenced to a year in prison, the judge making a point because of my family background, despite the club having sway.
I ended up missing my sister's funeral, breaking my mother's heart, and spent two weeks in solitary confinement. I had lost my shit when the correctional officer at the time declined my day of leave, thinking he was this big man.
He wasn’t very big when I knocked him out, though.
The visitor's door opens, gaining my attention, and I sigh as I look up and wait. Watching people walk in before my eyes lock on with my dad.
Grief and guilt consume me and the urge for another line rushes deep inside. I try to push it back as I look behind him, and I sigh, locking eyes with Trick, the club's soon-to-be VP, and one of my best friends.
Last month, Knuckles visited, the club’s soon-to-be enforcer.
The month before that, Crash, who will become the secretary and one by one each brother has come to see me, and no it doesn’t surprise me that it is the club’s future officer brothers.
All men I grew up with, men who I’m closest to, those are the ones visiting, all hoping I’ll change my mind about taking over from my dad.
What does shock me is the fact that they still want me as their leader when I’m the biggest fuck up around. I mean fuck, I’m currently serving a two-year sentence, already a year and a half in for driving while under the influence, and not just alcohol, along with aggravated assault.
I’m always angry, always fucking high, so them still wanting me to take over is a joke.
“Hey, son,” Dad murmurs as he takes a seat opposite me, and I give him a nod while Trick sits next to him, looking at me intently. His eyes going to the cut above my brow.
“Fighting again?” he confirms quietly, and I clear my throat.
“We have a fighting ring in the basement, it’s all good, I’m still on course to be released in five months if I stay on good behavior,” I reply quietly, and he nods, but his gray eyes still show concern.
Dad looks around the room, eyeing the officers before he looks my way and questions, “Was it done?”
I nod in confirmation, and he nods back.
Best thing about me being inside, doing the club's grunt work, is still being able to keep them safe.
The Chargers had their enforcer inside, on my wing, and with the help of Scar, a guy I met in my last stint, I managed to kill the fucker. I stuck my knife made out of my tooth brush into his neck before shoving him into the dryer and switching it on so he was completely mangled.
Detectives and staff still can’t figure out who killed the big bastard.
“How’s Mom?” I ask quietly, and Dad sighs while Trick answers, “She misses her son and don’t get me started on Whitney.”
I wince and ask, “Has she gotten in any more trouble?”
He nods once and mentions, “Got into a cat fight with several bunnies,” and I wince again.
Fuck.
Dad huffs, “Since your second stint, she’s struggled.
Last week, it was five against one, but she didn’t care.
The women were all sitting around, laughing and joking.
I think it was Honey who mentioned that she couldn’t wait to screw you after your release, and she snapped and punched Honey.
That caused three bunnies to drag your sister off the woman, and fucking Chanel punched her in the face as retaliation. ”
My blood boils as anger overrides me that the bitches thought they could lay hands on my sister. I can’t stop from fisting my hand underneath my chin tighter.
I’ve already lost one sister because of a patch chaser.
“Clark had to intervene,” Trick continues with a growl, “We were in the yard when we heard the commotion, but when I got there, Lavender had slapped Clark.”
“She gone?” I confirm with force, but Trick sighs and shakes his head, and I grit my teeth to stop myself from lashing out.
“She’s apparently good at head and is freaky in the sheets so the officer brothers, despite the protests from Crash, at the moment refused to kick her out.
Despite her hitting a club princess, they put her on probation.
Clark…well she gave Lavender a broken nose and threatened any bunny that mentioned your name around Whit again that she’ll knock them out and she means it.
You know she loves Whit,” Dad says, and my jaw ticks.
Clark is Crash’s little sister and the sweetest girl around. So, to hear that the brothers voted to keep the club bunny is mind-boggling and fucking pathetic.
And they wonder why I want fuck all to do with the club.
Between not feeling worthy and not keeping my sister safe, they keep the patch chasers around that cause shit. That’s a hard fucking no in my books, and if I were in charge, the bitch would have been gone, no second chances, her and Chanel.
“We need you home, son,” Dad whispers as chatter echoes around us, “Your sister is struggling with her temper, your mom is a shell of herself, worse than the last time you got locked up, and the brothers need you to lead them.”
“I’m not club anymore, Dad,” I remind him without looking up, and Trick snaps, “Yes, you fucking are, and you know it!”
I lock eyes with him, and tiredness radiates from him.
He’s learning to take over from his father, Lick, and is currently in college, working hard to get into medical school. The man is constantly on the go.
“You are our future Pres, whether you like it or not!” he growls quietly, “We grew up together, we got into shit together, meaning we fucking ride together. I won’t become VP without you by my fucking side, so get this shit outta your system and get ready!”
Dad looks away, trying to hide his smile, and I huff as I lean back in my chair and cross my arms over my chest.
Trust Trick to give it to me straight.
He eyes my neck before we lock eyes, and I narrow mine in warning, but of course, the fucker doesn’t retreat. Instead, he repeats for the hundredth time in two years, “It wasn’t your fault,” and Dad looks at me with sad eyes, and I clench my jaw yet again.
“If I didn’t bring that bitch around –”
Dad cuts me off as he leans forward and sneers, “Patch chasers are crazy mother fuckers who don’t care who they hurt, son!
” and I flinch, but he powers through, “All they care about is the easy life and unlimited money. That bitch terminated her pregnancy even knowing the kid was yours, your sister overheard her conversation, and the bitch panicked. It wasn’t your fucking fault, if anything, it was mine for not ensuring Angie was at the clubhouse. ”
“You were in church, Dad,” I remind him, trying my hardest to stay in this seat and not run away.
I can’t talk about my sister, fuck, when Dad watched the camera feed and seeing the whole thing go down, from Ang sneaking into the yard with a towel and her costume to her freezing hearing Toya’s cackled confession before my brave, stupid, twelve-year-old little sister confronted her instead of finding me.
“It doesn’t fucking matter, I still didn’t ensure she didn’t sneak out for a swim,” he grits and I swallow hard as I look down again and he continues, “It wasn’t your fucking fault, you didn’t know the woman was going to go nuts over the fact you were going to hand in your cut for the sake of your unborn baby’s safety, it was her fault! ”
“Time!” a guard calls, and Trick huffs as Dad sighs, and I look up as he squeezes my arm and he pleads, “Don’t make me and your mother bury another child, don’t let your sister lose her only sibling and come fucking home to us.”
“You’re missed, brother,” Trick adds as he stands, then reminds me, “You don’t take over as Pres, then I won’t take over as VP!” before he turns and storms away. Dad follows after, looking at me one more time before walking out of the door, and I swallow hard.
I can’t go back to the club, I just fucking can’t, I feel like a liability, especially after digging my own grave these past two years.
Sighing, I slowly stand before heading towards the gate and Scar, the big fucker with a massive scar going across his face that his dad gave him when he was four, deciding that name was better than Eugene walks beside me and whispers, “The cage?” and I nod and repeat, “The cage,” knowing I need an outlet before I end up adding time to my sentence.
Seeing my family, I struggle every single time. But knowing my sister is hurting? I need to release this anger, and hopefully, when I get released, I can keep myself on the right side of the law.