Chapter 37
THIRTY-SEVEN
JINX
I rode for two and a half hours to ensure I’d find somebody nobody else would likely see.
Two and a half hours to a tiny town with a population of three hundred and eighty to sit down before a man who’d probably delivered half that number in his practice before his hair had turned grey, just to be spun around and sent out the door within ten minutes with a script.
And the advice to cut the stress from my life.
As though it’s been that easy all along.
My ass aches by the time I get off the bike; the twenty-minute turnaround made the journey feel more like five hours of non-stop riding. I love my bike. Spent years getting it just the way I want. But goddamn, she’s not made for long journeys.
The paper packet in my pocket crinkles with my movement. A small box contained within, holding no more than ten little miracle pills that are supposed to solve all of my problems.
To say I’m skeptical would be an understatement.
There’s no way I’m getting into bed with a woman and leaving it up to chance, either.
Which is why there’s only one natural course of action.
Fang leans on the porch railing as I approach, hands slung before him, a cigarette pinched between his fingers.
I nod toward the burning stick. “I thought you gave that up?”
He lifts the smoke and glances at it before answering. “Still indulge from time to time when I need to get my head clear.”
“Who’ve you fucked that you shouldn’t now?”
He scoffs a small laugh as I join him on the porch. “No one. At least, nobody other than Reno in a moment of weakness or insanity. Maybe both.”
“You know, you only give her hope each time you do it.” Her days as a bunny for the Kings ended when she pushed out Fang’s daughter. But the woman keeps herself involved enough that we’re never long without seeing her enhanced rack and way too short skirts around the place.
“I know,” Fang laments. “But I can’t even quit smoking properly, so I have no hope of quitting her pussy, do I?”
I chuckle. He’s a lost cause when it comes to women, for sure. Not that I can say I’m any better. He just gets in trouble for fucking them. I get in trouble when I don’t.
The packet in my pocket seems larger all of a sudden, pressing against my side.
“I’ll leave you to lament your poor choices then,” I tease, heading for the door.
“What’s the latest with Crow?” he calls.
I stall, turning back to face him. “The lawyer does her best, but it looks difficult given the way things went down. We’ll know more when he has his arraignment in a few weeks. She’s started the bail process, so we’re hopeful to have him out for Christmas.”
“Hghm.” He makes the throaty noise as he casts his gaze back over the yard and takes a deep pull on the smoke. “In hindsight, I probably should have taken the rap this time.”
“Why?”
“Would have kept me away from Reno’s pussy.”
I smile, yet there’s no joy behind it. “Would have kept you from your daughter, too.”
He drops his head to hang it between his shoulders and draws a deep breath.
“She’d be better off without me, Jinx.” He lifts his head high, pride in the conviction behind his words.
“The less influence I have, the less likely she’ll turn out like her mother.
I want Molly to know there’s a life other than this one out there for her, and the more Reno keeps dragging her in here, the more she watches her mother dress to be fucked, then the more normal that becomes for her.
” He glances behind himself, at me. “I want better for my girl.”
“I get that.”
Because, although it’s not quite the same thing, I want better for Kyra, too.
I want better for any woman who makes the mistake of falling in love with me.
Maybe that’s just my childhood trauma speaking—the ache of watching my mom wither under my father’s hand until one day she just up and vanished—but it’s a belief that’s so a part of me that I wonder what I’m doing as I walk up the stairs to my room.
Why pop one of these little pills to see if they work? What does it matter when even if I can fix the issue between Kyra and me, I’d still harbor guilt for bringing her into this world? For taking her dreams and putting them second fiddle to mine.
Fuck. When will I get the fuck out of my own way? My concerns for her are valid, but as she rightly pointed out, she’s capable of making her own choices when it comes to the complications that come with settling down with me.
Settling down. My mind flashes to Fang and his daughter, to the worry Chaos’s sister Selena causes him. To all the other members who chose to move off-site to raise a family, because it drew a clear line between them and us.
I close the door behind me and strip my jacket on the way to my bed.
She wants kids. Kyra’s life dream is to have a family.
Could it work if we lived in her house, off-site?
Am I crazy for thinking this far into the future when she won’t even speak to me right now?
Fuck knows. All I know as I shove my hand in the pocket to pull out the script is I can’t do a fucking thing until I know for sure I’ve managed to fix this issue.
I pop a pill from the pack and then shove the box into my nightstand, right at the back of the drawer, underneath everything else. The tiny oval stares at me from my palm, and the familiar tension from shame and anger wrestles the muscles in my shoulders and arms.
“Just do it, you goddamn chicken.”
I throw it in my mouth and chase the fucker with a swig from the bottle of water on my nightstand. And so it begins. I’ve got ten minutes or so before it takes effect—at least, that’s what the doc told me. So I retrieve my laptop and open the lid.
Ask me how I thought this lifestyle would go when I patched in, and I would have told you a whole different story.
One with late nights and loose women, a belly full of liquor, and a middle finger to the law.
My father painted a vivid picture of life as a King of Anarchy, and I believed it because that’s what I saw him do.
That’s what life inside the clubhouse walls was fifteen years ago.
The Minnesota chapter was barely twenty years old, and a lot of the men on the roll were the original founding members.
The same men who started the chapter with a vision for rebellion and general mayhem.
But the world changed, and so did I. My lust for that life died along with my ability to partake in it.
And here I now sit, procrastinating about opening her page, because it feels like a violation more than ever when I can’t do the same thing to the real woman behind the facade.
“Watch mine with the same enthusiasm you do theirs…” Her words echo in my mind.
She wants this. But she also said that when we were on good terms.
Fuck it. I navigate to a free porn site and open that up instead, clicking on the first suggested video.
But it feels worse. Like cheating on Kyra, as though everything I said to her about how I feel was a lie.
Fucking hell. I drop my head to my hands and shove my fingertips roughly against my scalp. What do I do? My heart beats strong, and I don’t know if it’s the medication kicking in already or from the goddamn turmoil tugging me left and right.
I wish I could ask her. But then why let Kyra know I have a solution if I’m not sure it even works yet?
I switch browser pages back to hers and select something I’ve already seen: her last post. What better way to know if things have changed than to use content that failed to get me off before?
She fills the screen, almost more beautiful than before.
Or is that my longing for what I can’t have?
The familiar lines whisper from my speakers as she settles onto the bed and shows her toys, picking the purple one.
I loosen my belt and pop the catch on my jeans open.
Kyra teases that weapon along her glistening folds, and as she reaches the moment where I know she pushes it inside, the strangest fucking thing happens.
My dick pushes against my jeans to complain about the restriction.
I miss what she does next, instead fucking stunned to look down and see the thing I’ve been missing for years.
“Holy fuck,” I whisper before quickly dropping everything out of the way.
My dick sits proud, bobbing away from my stomach with each moan Kyra makes.
It fucking worked. It goddamn fucking worked.
I wrap my hand around the stiff shaft, immediately releasing a groan that rivals hers.
Fuck, that feels good. Heightened sensations my body had forgotten, the sharp tingle of arousal that was no more than a faint fever dream in my memories.
My palm moves toward the tip as I look back at the screen and find Kyra thrusting that goddamn dildo in and out with vicious strokes.
I match her pace, nipples hardening as I chase release also.
She slaps her free hand to her clit and uses two fingers to rub at the swollen nub vigorously.
Her climax builds, and fuck it, so does mine.
My balls draw tight as she starts to whimper, little cries sucked in with each inhale as she pushes herself to the brink.
Kyra comes, creamy goodness soaking the purple tool as she drags the dildo free and then thrusts it deep for one last leg-shaking climax, and I come too.
Thick ropes of cum that shoot onto my belly.
The high feels never-ending as I tug every drop free, leg shaking with the power of the release.
All as Kyra whispers the words that I’ve wanted to hear for more than a decade.
“You make me feel so good.”