Chapter 5
Skyla
I smile at the four lines of kids who are in my junior self-defense class. We start at age five and go up to sixteen, then the older kids join the adult group with a parent’s permission.
“You have all been doing so well. You all listen, even the younger ones; I am so proud of you. Have a water break, then we can move onto some stamina training.” They all run to have a water break.
Some go to their parents, but the older ones just go to their backpacks, as they were dropped off.
I notice a boy hanging back, so I step closer to see if he is okay. He gingerly lifts his arm, sipping from the water bottle in his hand. My blood spikes in anger when I see fingermark bruises on his wrists, and a fading bruise on his jawline.
He sees me watching and quickly pulls the sleeve of his shirt down to cover up.
“Hi, I’m Skyla, what is your name?”
“Aston.”
“Hi, Aston. Are you in this class, or are you waiting for the next one?” I only train one hour with the juniors, so we do not work their still growing bodies too much.
His eyes dart around, looking at the kids, before coming back to me, then the exit. I sense his unease, so I step in to reassure him.
“Hey, you are okay right where you are. Do you want to join in?”
He shakes his head. “I do not have any money.” His voice is low, as his eyes still dart around the room.
“That is okay. You do not need to pay me anything, just join in. Everyone has the right to defend themselves.” As I say those words, his body stiffens.
“I am strong. I can fight back.”
I nod to his wrist and jaw. “I can see that.”
His eyes widen and he turns to leave but I stop him gently.
“Aston, you can stay. I am sorry if I upset you. Please stay and learn some moves, please.” I lower my voice, softening it for him.
The one thing I hate most in the world is kids getting hurt. Not being able to defend themselves against the people who should be protecting them, but who hurt them instead, to make themselves feel bigger and better.
“I can pay,” he whispers.
“Okay. How much money do you have?” I ask, knowing that I will never take a dime from this kid.
He shrugs, dipping into his old, faded pants and pulls out some coins.
“Okay,” I say, ignoring the fact that he barely has a few dollars. “I will make a deal with you. How old are you?”
He nods and answers, “Eleven.”
“Good. You help me clean up after school, and you can train for free. You get free lessons, when you can get here, also free fruit and juices from the staff room.” I hold my hand out to him, and he tentatively takes it.
“Okay.”
“One more condition.” He stiffens again and I sigh, hating that this boy is suffering something that no child should.
“No one here will hurt you. My best friends, Eva, Clark, and Rocky are here to protect you, you hear me?” He nods. “Tell me who did this?”
He hesitates, once again his gaze darting around.
“Sit. I will be right back,” I tell him.
He sits on one of the black chairs we have, and I walk in the direction of Clark, who is talking to a mom who brought her daughter to the gym for help with bullies in school.
“Sorry, can I borrow him for a second?” She nods, and Clark steps to me.
We walk a few feet away, his gaze shifting to Aston.
“What’s with the boy?”
“He needs lessons. He has a faded bruise on his face and fresh ones on his wrists.”
“Who did it?” His nostrils flare in anger; I know how he feels, hell, we all do.
We all came from shitty homes and escaped the second we could.
“I am going to talk to him to find out. He is going to come here after school when he can and sit in on some lessons. For payment, he is going to do some light cleaning and get some food in his belly, because he is fucking thin, Clark.”
“You tell me who the fucker is who hurt him and I will make them pay for hurting him.”
I softly rub his bicep, loving how amazing my friends are. They do not know Aston from Adam but they will jump through a ring of fire to help him.
None of us like seeing kids get hurt, but it really makes our blood boil when it is family who hurts them.
Giving him a nod and stepping back over to Aston, I see he is still looking around nervously.
“Come with me,” I call to him, and he jumps off his seat, following me into the room that is the shared office that the four of us use.
I point to the chair, letting him know to sit. I hate seeing the fear and uncertainty in his eyes, and it hurts my heart.
Kids should feel joy, love, and fun, not fear and hunger.
“I have spoken to my business partner, and he is happy for you to help around here when you can, and in return you can train with any one of us who are teaching a class, and you will eat and drink what you need from the staff lounge as you will be staff. That sound good?”
He nods. “I can do that. My mom and the twat-waffle do not care where I am most of the time,” he gruffs.
“Okay, rule one. No swearing.” He looks to his feet.
“You are allowed to speak to us about anything but you show respect. Rule two, you come to any of us to let us know that you are here and when you are leaving. You leave before it gets dark; I will not have you walking around after dark, okay?” He nods.
“Thank you, Skyla.”
“Now, who did that?” I point to his face.
“My mom’s new boyfriend. He hates me, always tells my mom to kick me out. But she won’t because she gets money and food stamps because I live there.” He shrugs and it breaks my heart.
I shake my head, fucking hating people who should never be allowed to have kids.
“Do you have a cell?” He nods.
“A friend from school gave me his old one, in case of emergencies.”
“He is a good friend. We all need good people in our lives. Here.” I scribble my number down on a piece of paper for him, adding my friends’ also. “Call me or anyone on that list and we will come for you. Got it?”
“I will. Thank you.”
“Have you told the school what has been happening at home?”
“Yeah. My mom tells them that I am making it up because I am jealous of her boyfriend taking her attention away from me.” He sniffs.
“Her attention should be on you, honey. Parents should always put their kids first; I am sorry that this is happening to you.”
He goes to speak, but the office door opens, making Aston jump. I push to my feet, moving closer to the boy, and my heart skips a beat seeing Camo stepping over the threshold.
It has been a week since I last saw him, but I refuse to admit to him, or myself if I am being honest, that I missed him. I need to stand my ground when it comes to him, not let him win whenever he pulls a bullshit move like he did recently.
His strong body moves with such force that no one would step in his way to stop him. The side of his lips quirk up, his gaze lazily moving over my body, and heat curls through me.
Fucking damn it.
“Baby,” he says, his voice smooth like melted chocolate.
Camo looks at Aston, and I see his body stiffen the second he sees the bruises. Aston’s body fills with tension, sensing the anger rolling off Camo.
I sigh, stepping closer to Aston, placing a hand on his shoulder and offering him support and reassurance.
“Aston, this is Camo. He is the Vice President of the Kings of Anarchy. He is not here to hurt you or me.” I lower my voice. “Why don’t you go back downstairs to see if Rocky needs any help?”
He looks between Camo and me, like he wants to stay and protect me if he can, and for that, I admire this kid even more. With a nod, he walks past Camo with his head held high and his shoulders back, eyeing him up, showing him that he is not scared of him.
The door closes behind me and I am alone with the man who knows every inch of my body inside and out.
“Why are you here, Camo?” I fold my arms across my front, leaning my butt on the edge of my desk.
There are four desks in the large space that is our office. With each of us needing our own space as we all offer something different, it just made sense that we each have a work space.
“Missed you” is all he says while closing the distance between us.
I scoff at his reply, shaking my head.
I know that he has not missed me; he is not that type of man, but he is the type who buries himself deep under your skin and you have to fight to get him to leave.
I was asked on a date yesterday, and I was so freaking tempted until Camo’s face flashed in my head, and I declined, but believe me, I am having regrets now.
“You mean you missed my body and an easy lay.”
He shrugs, my body coiling at his words. “You do have a fucking tight pussy, baby.”
My body tingles with the sound of his deep voice, making my panties grow wet as my arousal builds the closer he gets to me. Hands gripping the edge of the desk hard, keeping them from reaching out and touching him, I watch him descend on me.
“I know,” I brag.
He has told me time and time again that I have the tightest pussy he has ever had, and that is thanks to Kegel exercises.
Camo stops in front of me, his feet on either side of mine as he leans in. His large hands rest on my desk, caging me in.
I can feel his hot breath as he breathes me in. One thing Camo likes to do is scent me; he has made a note of different body washes and lotions that I use.
“Missed that smart mouth, too.”
“Well, you know where I have been. It was you who left and stayed away.” I act indifferent, but I know he can smell how turned on I am.
“You know what this is, Sky.” His eyes narrow a little as he stares right into my eyes.
I shrug, looking right back at him.
“I did and I do, but do you not think that I deserve more?”
He licks the front of his teeth, his nostrils flaring, before he moves in, dropping his head to the crook of my neck, kissing gently at first, then he sucks. Hard. The pain goes straight to my core, making me drip for him.
Shit.
His hands move, one going to the small of my back, the other quickly, smoothly slipping down the front of my workout leggings, going directly to my cleft, his fingers finding my swollen clit and he presses hard.
It is like an on-switch for him.
“I can give you more orgasms, baby. My fingers, my cock, and my mouth have missed you. So, you are going to be a good girl and let me fuck you, giving us both what we really want.”
“I can orgasm whenever I want, Camo. That is not what I am talking about and you know it.” I whimper the last part as he slips two fingers inside of me.
He scoffs, biting my neck before licking the area, soothing it.
My body fucking melts at his touches, betraying my head and my heart.
“I can feel how wet you are, Skyla. Soaking my hand, baby, and I know that you’ll soak my cock when I slip inside of you.”
He works his fingers in and out of me, keeping his thumb on my clit, pressing just enough to keep me on the edge.
“Fuck, Camo. Just make me come already,” I assert, as he bites down on my neck, his fingers sinking deep, and his thumb pressing harder.
“I want you to come on my cock,” he replies, pulling his hand free from my panties.
He tugs down the material but I stop him as they hit mid-thigh. If he thinks he is going to control all of this, he can fuck all the way off.
Frowning, he looks at me, wondering why I stopped him.
As much as I missed what we have, I will not give him what he wants and that is to watch me come. He says that all he can offer me is his dick, but when I come, he has a need to look me in the eyes.
He says that he needs it, his soul calls for it.
Keeping my facial expression neutral, I turn my back to him, offering him my ass and not my eyes. With a stilled breath, I wait to see what he does next.