Chapter 6
Delaney
Although I dread going home, I am yawning into my hand when Draven pulls in front of her house and parks the car.
I’m hoping this doesn’t mean that Maddox will be coming back too because his behavior back at the party left me cold and I need time to process it all.
“C’mon,” Draven says, and I follow her through the front door and down the hall to her room.
She pauses at the door and edges her boot under the sleeping dog blocking our entry before gently pushing him away.
The dog barely twitches, and I can’t contain my snort when Draven mumbles, “Fucking Spot.”
“Your dog’s name is Spot?” I ask as she closes the door behind us.
When she glowers at me, I splay my hands but she’s immune while she plops on the bed and pulls a bag of weed from her pocket.
From where I’m still standing at the door, I watch her roll a blunt and light up before inhaling greedily.
When she holds it out to me, I stare at it for a moment. It’s not like I’ve never gotten high before, but it was rare with Mom and Peter constantly on my ass.
Besides, do I want to get high with Queen Bitch knowing I’ll be too out of it to defend myself?
Should I be worried about the consequences of doing it at all? It’s not hard to see that addiction runs in my blood.
While I have my internal monologue, Draven shrugs and takes another hit. Before she can snuff it out, I round the bed and sit beside her, holding out my hand.
Fuck it. I’m a teenager. I should be having fun and not worrying about shit I have zero control over.
Of course, I cough like a maniac. To her credit, Draven doesn’t comment.
After my turn, she puts it out by way of her dresser, and I grimace before leaning back against the pillows.
It’s completely silent between us but it’s not awkward and I start to stray into the thoughts that consume me daily.
When did my mom start to fall? How did I miss it? How is she really doing?
Will we ever get back to the way we were before?
Can I make enough money at the diner to pay for necessities and add to the savings I’ve been hoarding?
What the hell am I going to do after graduation?
Eventually I doze and sometime later in the evening, I wake, glancing around blearily.
It’s dark. I can hear the soft whoosh of Draven’s breath as she sleeps. A dull headache throbs at the base of my skull and my bladder protests when I sit up.
The stars shining through the window cast a gentle glow upon the floor as I ease from the bed. Inexplicably, I’m reminded of better days when we used to go out into the backyard with cups of hot chocolate and gaze at the stars, just Mom and me.
Those were the times that I loved the most because Mom was just Mom and not some other version that created chaos before bringing her darkness or so I thought before I grew old enough to understand what was happening.
Whatever. Focus.
I need to pee. After that, I guess I’ll go back to sleep. It’s not like I can walk home, and I don’t want to waste my money on a ride.
There’s a soft glow emanating from the living area, and I pause just outside the door to listen for any sound.
Are we still alone? What if Draven’s dad is here?
I’ve never met the man but tales of his size and strength make up the local lore at school.
Still, I need to pee and like now, so I take the risk and step across the hall to the first closed door.
Thankfully, it’s empty because this looks like the master bedroom, and I’d hate to find out how friendly Draven’s dad is by disturbing his privacy.
After closing the door, I tiptoe to the next, grumbling under my breath, “Why are all the doors closed?”
Between the door I’m standing in front of and the next one over, I have a fifty-fifty shot of getting this right.
While my stomach rolls with nerves because I do not want to walk in on Maddox, my brain is screaming to hurry up because I’m not sure how much longer I can hold it, despite my roiling emotions from earlier.
I exhale quietly when the toilet comes into view and ease the door closed before dropping to the cool porcelain.
Immediately the sharp pain in my bladder eases and I drop my head. That was close.
After wiping, I stand and pull up my pants before washing my hands. My red ringed eyes stare back at me from the mirror, and I shake my head.
I’m lucky nothing happened but getting high with someone I barely know and don’t trust was beyond stupid.
When I reach for the towel on the rack, the door swings open and a deep, male voice, growls, “Fuck, Dray. How long are you gonna be? I gotta piss.”
Turning, I take in the long expanse of bare chest practically in my face and freeze.
What was once a delicious fantasy has become real life fodder for my dreams.
Warm, dusky skin.
Tattoos covering every inch of his pectorals ending at his happy trail leading to baggy sports shorts that do nothing to conceal his hips.
Who knew hip bones were sexy?
“Ahem.” Maddox clears his throat, and I whip my head up, my cheeks, of course, blazing.
His yummy lips curl into another devastating smirk and I mentally sigh.
Everything about this man screams sexy, right down to that fucking dimple in his cheek and I’m not prepared to resist the thrall he casts over me so easily.
“You done?” he rasps, raising a brow and I nod dumbly before sliding past him.
When he steps to the side, I fight a kernel of disappointment because I was so close to feeling that glorious skin.
“Princess?” Maddox rasps and I look up into his deep, dark stare.
“Maybe just a taste, hm?” he hums before wrapping his fingers around my neck and pulling me in.
My skin warms when his breath puffs against my cheek before his lips pull into his signature sexy smirk and he flicks his tongue out, swiping it across my bottom lip.
This is followed by a gentle nip that inspires me to open my mouth on a sigh.
With bold sweeps of his tongue, he lashes my mouth, the warm caress sending a rush of tingles to my core.
I wrap my fingers around his bicep when he grabs my hip and he pulls me in, those devilish fingers sliding down to my ass.
His chest brushes mine causing my nipples to form hard peeks and I stifle a gasp when his erection touches my stomach.
Looking up, I meet his glittering stare and goosebumps cascade along my skin as I arch against him.
With a groan, he grabs my waist, and I feel a little thrill that fades to confusion when the dog barks from down the hall.
My veins thrum with need and I shiver at the loss when he pulls away, humming, “So fucking sweet.”
After that, he touches a lock of my hair before gently pushing me away.
Dazed, I stumble back to Draven’s room, ignoring the impulse to look back until he says, “Sweet dreams, princess.”
He's already in the bathroom when I turn. Rolling my eyes to the ceiling, I creep back into Draven’s room and collapse to the mattress where I proceed to dream of touching those beautiful tattoos while his skin moves against mine.
If a single kiss has me on the edge, I can’t help but wonder what it would be like to go all the way with him.
Maddox
The instant I did it, I regretted giving in to Draven because it meant I had to come back to make sure she wasn’t alone. With everything going on the last thing I wanted to do was babysit my little sister but despite her bitchy attitude, I see the frustration and unhappiness behind her eyes.
If letting her come home instead of staying at the clubhouse alleviates that, it’s a small price to pay on my part, considering the circumstances.
Of course, I let her believe I was frustrated and angry, which to an extent I am because if she catches even a whiff of weakness, she’ll walk right over me to get what she wants.
If she were a man, she’d make one helluva a brother but she’s not and I do believe taking her place as some poor fucker’s ol’ lady is not in the cards.
Draven doesn’t listen for shit and she’s too headstrong to be someone’s property. She was born into the wrong family because in our world, women are cherished but they are not part of the brotherhood.
As a man, it’s my job to keep her safe. Her job is to do as she’s told. Yeah…so not happening.
When I found sweet little Delaney, instead of my sister in the bathroom, I knew I couldn’t resist a taste.
I was too harsh with her earlier but with everything going on, Delaney shouldn’t be anywhere near the clubhouse.
Girls like her only complicate things and I’m a simple guy. I don’t do sweet and I sure as shit don’t have time to date. The mere thought makes me shudder.
This is why I stick to the sweet butts or find a woman with mutual interests.
There’s something about Delaney that pulls me in though. Maybe it's because she looks at me with those blue-gray eyes and my dick twitches.
Don’t matter either way though because I won’t be exploring what’s between those thighs.
It’s probably for the best too. The pretty little cheerleader is too young to handle me but if she weren’t, I’d be happy to give her the ride of her life.
At the thought, my dick aches and I glance at the door where she’s sleeping just beyond the flimsy wood. Maybe I should tug one out, but the low rumble of an approaching bike reminds me that I don’t have time.
With a groan, I step into my room and grab the nearest shirt from the floor.
I’m almost never here so I’m stuck wearing shit from three years ago, but it fits, even if it has a slightly tangy odor.
Wrinkling my nose, I grab my wallet and head for the door.
One of the prospects is staying until Draven is up and then per Pops, she has to go back to the clubhouse whether she wants to or not.
It’s not my problem but I do tamp down a kernel of unease when Bran dismounts his sled and approaches.
Do I trust this man with my sister and her friend? Images of Draven cutting off his balls if he so much as touches her urge me off the porch but then I envision him hovering over Delaney while she sleeps, and I pause.
Pops trusts Bran otherwise he wouldn’t be here watching over his precious daughter, but do I?
We trusted Hand too and look where that got us.
Glancing back at the darkened house, I silently sigh and say, “Wanna drink?”
An hour later as dawn is painting the sky, Lottie and her husband Will turn down the drive. Lottie’s been cleaning the house once a week since I can remember while her husband Will tends to the yard.
Lottie was my mom’s best friend. I know I can trust this woman and her husband, a grizzly old man who knows his way around a gun and isn’t afraid to use it.
He nods as he exits the truck and moves around the side to open Lottie’s door. Her pitch-black hair now interspersed with glittery gray strands emerges from the cab and I step forward to grab the bag of cleaning products from her hand.
“Hey Lot,” I say, and she smiles, her pretty blue eyes sparkling as she leans her head against my arm.
When her spicy perfume invades my senses, I fight the urge to close my eyes.
Once upon a time, Lottie was almost a permanent fixture here.
How many times did I drag my cars out to the table so I could sit beneath their feet while they gossiped and played cards?
At the thought, Mom’s dancing dark eyes fill my vision, and I suck in a breath but the brutal ache eases when Lottie says, “Hello, my sweet boy.”
Barking out a laugh, I tip my head toward the house and say, “Gonna clean my room this time?”
It’s a long-standing joke between us but I left this house the day I turned eighteen and I rarely come home. There are too many reminders of what I lost living within these walls.
Although Lottie changes the sheets and moves the dust around a bit, she once told me that she wasn’t my fucking maid and if I wanted a clean room, I should do it myself.
This is why I’m not surprised when she narrows her eyes and says, “No way mister. You’re in charge of your own crusty undies.”
“I haven’t worn undies since I was five,” I say, and she shakes her head.
“You’ll always be my sweet boy, but it’s not my job to clean your filth.”
My sweet boy. Mom used to say the same thing. Toward the end when I was a testosterone filled teen with nothing but bravado and the insane urge to be a man so I could join the MC already, I hated it.
Now, I would give anything to go back and hear her soft voice saying it again.
Resisting the urge to rub my chest, I muster a grin and change the subject, waving over her head as I say, “Draven’s in there.”
She knows what I’m doing and although I see the furrow in her brow, she plays along, rolling her eyes before she says, “Thanks for the warning.”
Maybe it’s a shitty thing to do but most days it’s easier to avoid thinking about Mom and while I appreciate Lottie for trying to keep her memory alive, she should put those efforts toward Draven.
I’m fine. She’s not.
Wagging my finger, I say as I back toward my bike, “I’m so telling her you said that.”
“And I’ll tell her you’re afraid of her,” she snorts.
“Am not,” I protest, smiling when she laughs and points her finger at me.
“Are too, but don’t worry, your secret is safe with me.”
I smile all the way back to the clubhouse, but it fades when I pull into the lot and find Pops standing there waiting for me.
He glares at Bran who hightails it inside while Pops taps his boot on the ground.
After dismounting, I finally grunt, “What?”
“Son,” he says with a sigh, clasping my shoulder. “You gotta trust sometime.”
Like we trusted Hand?
His words burn and I avoid his gaze saying, “Trust is earned.”
“Yep, and just like you, these men have earned it. Got me?”
“Yeah,” I say but we both know that it’s a lie which is why Pops just shakes his head and pushes me toward the door.
“C’mon, we got church.”