Chapter 4 Army Past #2
“You realize what you just said, right?” Satisfaction ripples through me at the opportunity to point out a flaw of Guerilla’s without me looking like a complete dick. “Guerilla is a brother.”
He’s been ‘courting’ Leeva since she isn’t eighteen yet, keeping things platonic, and even though he isn’t publicly with any women, I have my suspicions.
My observation doesn’t land the way I’m hoping it would with Leeva.
“You’re an asshole.”
“So, you think I’d sink my dick into the Club Pussy the second I could, but Guerilla wouldn’t?”
Or isn’t.
“Fuck you.” Her voice shakes.
“Why the contradiction and double-standard?” I press like an idiot, not knowing when to back off. “Why would you think I’d take advantage of the pussy-on-tap”—she winces at my calling it that—“but Guerilla wouldn’t?”
In truth, my only interest in the opposite sex since I was twelve has been her. I’m seventeen and still a virgin.
“Guerilla said you’d try to come between us.”
That motherfucker.
“Oh really?” I keep a lid on my rage. “He said that, did he? And since when is there an ‘us’ with you and Guerilla? You’re not dating; you’re underage.”
In California, the legal age of consent is eighteen. So maybe if they were dating, I could get Guerilla tossed in jail for statutory rape. I’ll be honest, the idea has appeal.
She sniffs. “I don’t want to fight.”
“Neither do I.” I sigh heavily, hating that we are, and the only reason is my asshole brother. “Why did Guerilla tell you I’d try to come between you?”
“Because of your rivalry.”
“There is no rivalry—only the one in his head.”
I see her denial, the delusion of the man Guerilla really is. She doesn’t see him as the manipulative, vindictive, unworthy fucker he is. For some reason, she has blinders on when it comes to him. And with her denial, I see the hint of distance. Like she’s pulling away from me.
If I can’t accept she has feelings for my piece of shit brother, I’ll lose her.
“I’m sorry, little dove. I really don’t want to fight.”
She settles back beside me, turning slightly so she fits into my side. I love that she seeks comfort from me when she’s upset.
“Promise me you’ll tell Pierre to get fucked if he says anything else about your body,” I urge.
I’ll be giving him an impromptu midnight visit to drive the point home that he isn’t to say shit to her, but I keep that to myself.
She sighs.
“Promise me, Leeva.” My tone is all dominance, and I clear my throat as she shivers. “Promise me,” I repeat, softer.
“I promise.” Her voice sounds squeaky, and she shivers again.
I quickly shrug out of my cut and wrap it around her. Her arms aren’t covered, but at least the thick leather gives her some warmth.
Settling into me again, she asks, “Why did you do that?”
“Because you’re cold. You shivered twice.”
“Thanks. Your cut is really warm from your body heat.”
“That’s what happens when a person isn’t skin and bones.”
“I’m not skin and bones,” she gripes.
I squeeze my arm around her, digging my fingers into her ribs that feel too protruding. “Could’ve fooled me. All I feel is a bag o’ bones.”
She squirms under my fingers and snorts. “Like the Halloween decoration? A skeleton in a burlap bag?”
“Yeah, except this skeleton has a mop of hair she always keeps tied back and a snappy mouth.”
She gnashes her teeth, making me laugh. Then she settles in against me as we stare at the stars. We talk about shit from school, gossiping about people we don’t care about.
It’s just her and me, and I don’t care about the topic. As long as I have her, I’ll be happy to talk about the color pink for hours if that’s what she wants.
Whipped doesn’t come close to describing what I am when it comes to her. But I don’t give one fuck.
I’m having supper while I wait for Leeva to come to the clubhouse for us to hang out.
Ever since she turned eighteen a few months ago, I’ve hardly seen my best friend because Guerilla moved in on her.
They’re ‘dating’ now, and everything I’ve done to subtly try to break them up has backfired and blown up in my face.
“Hayes!”
I turn at the excitement in Leeva’s voice, a thrill ripping through me. Not only because she’s here, but because she sounds so happy. I rise from the table, a smile cracking my face, wishing I could grab her and kiss her senseless and claim her in front of everyone here.
She’d be my first kiss. I’ve been saving all my firsts for her, still holding onto my V-card, even though I’m halfway to nineteen now.
But I nearly drop to my knees as she rushes toward me with a huge smile, as disbelief and horror assault me, as my mind tries to deny what my eyes are seeing.
Inside I feel like I’m dying an agonizing death.
“No,” I choke out.
I’m vaguely aware of Ash getting up from the table and coming to stand beside me.
“What did you do?” Pain etches each of my words. I can’t breathe.
Her delicate hand flutters to her neck. To the perfect ivory silky skin that used to be unblemished and unmarked, but now holds a tattoo.
His mark. His brand. Guerilla’s.
His name is on the side of her neck where the elegant curve of her shoulder meets her graceful, long neck.
“He made you his old lady.” I somehow get the words out. No. No. Fucking no.
I loom over her; she’s still too underweight and slight, like she could easily be broken in half.
She steps back from me, hurt coating her beautiful face. “I thought you’d be happy.”
How the fuck can I be happy that my piece of shit brother has the woman I love? How can I be happy that you never see him for the unworthy fuck he is?
I still haven’t told her how I feel. I’ve still been wrestling with the filthy, deviant thoughts of the things I want to do to her—that have only grown more intense—and promised myself once I did, I’d confess my love to her.
At eighteen, she’s still too young to make an informed decision about what it means to be tied to someone in the MC.
I still feel she should marry someone not tied to the criminal underworld, who can give her the kind of life that was stolen from her when her parents died.
But my hesitation and delay have only pushed her straight to Guerilla.
Jesus, fuck, I don’t think I’m going to survive this.
Never, never in my wildest dreams did I think she’d become his old lady so young and so soon after they started dating. I thought I had time. I thought Guerilla would show his true colors without me being the bad guy to point them out. I thought…
It doesn’t matter what I thought, because the absolute most horrible thing—other than her dying—has happened.
I can never have her.
Even if she decides to leave Guerilla in the future because he broke her heart—and he will fucking break her heart, I know that as surely as I need air to breathe—I still couldn’t have her.
In the eyes of our MC, she’d always be Guerilla’s because his brand is on her skin, and according to our laws, I could never touch her.
She’s now untouchable. Forbidden and off-limits.
Zeus comes up behind Leeva, looking at me with concern.
Ash, who’s the spitting image of his dad, motions to Leeva's neck.
Leeva turns to look at Zeus and shock covers his face.
Then he rocks back on his heels with a look of disapproval. “Your grandpa approved this, Leeva?”
“I’m an adult,” she snaps. “Believe it or not, I’m capable of making decisions. If Hayes can join the military and risk getting his ass blown up for his country, then why the hell can’t I make this choice for myself?”
“I’m not going.” The words are out of my mouth without thought.
She whips back to me, her brow creased in concern. “It’s your dream, Hayes. Why wouldn’t you go?”
I know I can’t leave her now that she’s officially Guerilla’s.
Fuck, the thought of him being with her…having her…
Her innocence, and not just her virginity—my stomach revolts at the thought of that though, and my knees nearly buckle—but her purity. He’ll taint that, destroy that, but if I stay, I might prevent that from happening.
I never wanted her innocence to be tainted or her purity diminished. It was my knee-jerk reaction of why I had friend-zoned us in the beginning. I’m not worthy of her, but neither is my brother, the motherfucker.
Even though my refusal to tell her how I feel could very well be the reason we got to this point, and the brutal truth that I can never have her is still sinking in, I still love her. And I’ll protect her—protect and preserve her innocence and purity as much as I can.
I couldn’t do that if I enlisted and was shipped off across the world.
“I decided to delay enlisting.”
Zeus eyes me closely but catches on. “I asked him to. I know it’s selfish of me, but the MC needs Army here right now.”
Leeva’s finely arched brows furrow as she hates the thought of me being a brother.
“Where’s my old lady?” a voice booms outside in the bar area, close enough to the adjoining room where my friends and I like to eat. “Did you all hear the great fucking news?”
My entire body fills with rage.
Guerilla.
Ash moves to block me from going out and killing him.
Zeus takes Leeva’s elbow and turns her so her back is to me. “Come on, little one. Your old man is looking for you,” he says to her, but jerks his chin at Ash.
Ash pulls me toward the side door. Once we’re outside of the clubhouse, I snarl and come at him. But he anticipates my attack, knowing that I need to get this rage out.
He slams my back into the wall. “We can fight and draw everyone’s attention, including that piece of shit Guerilla, to why you’re so fucking livid over Leeva. Or you can walk away, and we’ll leave the compound and fight whoever you want.”
He steps back. “Or better yet, we can go and finally get you laid. Because, brother, that pussy is forever on lockdown from anyone in this club, other than Guerilla, so you might as well accept that.”
I shove push him, and he follows me to our bikes. I don’t let myself think or feel. We just ride.
When Ash pulls up at a warehouse, I don’t ask any questions as I follow him into the building. Inside, the interior is dim, and there’s a deep, pulsing beat thudding through the space.
He leads me to a desk where a woman towers on stilettos and her see-through dress shows pierced nipples with chains dangling down her torso. I stay silent as he speaks quietly to her. She eyes me with appreciation and taps her red-stained lips, then tells me to follow her.
I watch the woman’s ass as she struts in front of me. She’s lithe and lean, like Leeva, who is still underweight in my opinion. But I can’t think of Leeva. Because I feel like I’m about to cheat on her.
But she isn’t mine…nor could she ever be.
The woman leads me into a room that has a bed, a bench, and a wall full of items.
“It's a sex bench—great for spanking or getting railed from behind,” she explains when she sees me looking at it. Her eyes trail down my body. “Do you have preferences? Male or female?”
“Female. One with curves.”
I need the woman to be the opposite of Leeva.
She nods. “Do you want to dominate or be dominated?”
I pause, considering. “I want to dominate, not like BDSM but…” I’m not quite sure how to explain my wants. “But I need guidance.”
She nods. “I’ll send Anais. If she isn’t to your liking, that’s okay; we can try another. Wait here.”
Being left alone isn’t in my best interest because I’m going to start talking myself out of this. Start feeling like I’m cheating on Leeva more than I already am.
Thankfully, the door opens, and I turn to find a woman with auburn hair. Her breasts are full, and her curves are apparent under the silk robe.
“I'm Anais,” she says in a husky voice.
I want to bolt from this room and never look back. But back there is only Leeva, and I can never have her. I can never have my best friend. So I need to do this.
I need to lose my fucking virginity already; rip the band-aid off and finally let myself explore these filthy desires and deviant fantasies that fill my head.
“Are you okay, baby?”
I flinch as she steps up to me and reaches out to touch my chest. I breathe through the sickness of letting another woman touch me who isn’t my little dove.
Her hair is red, not the raven color of Leeva’s. Her body is curvy and lush.
“Tell me what you need,” she says. “What can I do to help you?”
I focus on her, pushing all other thoughts out of my mind, and speak of a filthy desire that I would’ve never even considered doing to Leeva, even if we had ever been together. “I want to come all over your face. Will you allow that?”
“Baby,” she moans. “I absolutely love when my lovers do.”
“I only want authentic noises. Only gasps, moans, and screams if what I’m doing to you is truly pleasurable.”
Appreciation flashes in her eyes, and she smiles. “A thoughtful lover.”
“I want to be a good fuck; someone who knows how to give as well as get pleasure. I want to learn everything about making a woman come.”
More appreciation fills her eyes. “I can be down with that.”
She tries to kiss me, but I stop her. “No kissing.”
“Even if that’s what gets your lover hot and can make her come more intensely?”
“That’s my hard limit.”
“That’s your hard limit?” She smirks when I nod. “What about anal play? Would you take a plug up your ass while you fuck me? Or is that a hard limit, too?”
“Kissing is my only hard limit. The rest…” I shrug. “Let’s experiment and see what I like. The filthier the better.”
She laughs, biting her lip. “Well, don’t hold back. Let’s give your kinkiest and filthiest desires a go, shall we? Because, honey, I’m going to make you forget the woman who has you in knots.”