Tied To You (The Rippers MC #3)

Chapter One

TRAVIS

R olling my eyes open, a faint light breaks through the cracks, burning the back of my brain. The pain is instant. A reminder that at twenty-five, I may not be old compared to some of the shitheads here, but my ability to recover after a heavy night is seriously getting worse.

I lift a hand to my face. There’s a dull, numbing drum, drilling behind my eyes. It sabotages my ability to fully recall what happened.

We handled business then everyone arrived at the clubhouse. That much I do know. After that, the memories are diluted by copious amounts of alcohol. Alcohol which—when I try to focus my gaze on my surroundings—clearly is still poisoning my blood. I feel like I’m going to puke my fucking guts up.

I don’t know why I still do it. Probably because it’s the easiest way to fill the void. The easiest way to pass the time. It’s not healthy, but not yet a problem.

Scoffing at my own self-pity, the toilet from the bathroom flushes, and I lift my head an inch off the pillow. Fuck . Too much fucking movement too soon. Who’s in there? I don’t remember spending the night with anyone. Not yet, anyway. I hear them washing their hands as I rest my head back down, noticing a black, lace bra hanging off the chair in the corner of the room. It’s a woman. That’s all I got so far.

I wait for the mystery person to walk out from the bathroom, all too aware of the smell of sex invading my nose. A bottle of lube sits on the bedside table. Jesus fucking Christ . What the fuck did I do? I pray to fucking God Tanya walks out from that room and not one of her friends. Been there. Got that fucking t-shirt hung nicely in the closet of; don’t fuck a random stranger who thinks they want to fuck a biker. They get attached too quick, and before you know it, you’re contemplating moving to the other side of the world to live with your mate.

I’m spared that idea on two fronts. For starters, said mate is back tomorrow—not just a visit this time. It’s been too fucking long without him. The quiet nobody who left school not long after finding the club, sounded good the last time we spoke. And second, the petite, naked blonde who opens the door, smiles at me, knowing the drill.

I close my eyes, offering up a silent prayer.

“Same again tomorrow?” Tanya purrs.

The bed dips, and I peek an eye open.

Her bare tits dangle over me, and I lift my hand to her hip.

“Sorry,” she starts. “Not sure how that got there.”

Looking up, I see her G-string hanging off the frame of the bed. I look back to her, her eyes now meeting mine. “Your bra made it over there,” I say, pointing to the chair, my eyes flicking to her hardening nipples.

Tanya spins her head, a satisfied smile spreading wide over her face. “You have good aim.”

I raise a brow at her.

“You don’t remember stripping me before you had your way with me?” She pushes off the bed, walking to retrieve her bra.

No. But that sounds about right.

“Don’t worry. I’m not complaining.”

I feel my face uncurl at her words, then I watch as Tanya swiftly dresses, perching on the edge of the bed to put on her shoes.

“What did we get up to?” I nod my head towards the lube when she looks over her shoulder at me, fluffing the pillow underneath my head. My mouth tastes like cotton. I need water.

Tanya laughs as she zips up the side of her boot. “I’m not ashamed to say I’m experienced when it comes to fucking guys,” she stands off the bed, “but none of them make me come the way you did last night.”

I smirk at her not-so-subtle appraisal, still unsure of what it is that I actually did.

“Word of warning, Travis, if I can?”

I dip my head, wondering what the fuck she’s going to say.

“Women don’t tend to let a man who can do what you do, go.” She must see my eyes widen for she giggles. “Don’t worry. You’re good…” I see her mind trail as she stares through me, her cheeks blushing, “ very good , in fact. You’re just not what I’m looking for.”

Not that I want a relationship, but what the fuck’s that supposed to mean?

Grabbing her jacket, Tanya leans over me, her lips pushing against mine, silencing my thoughts. “Let’s just say, I’m not looking to dig my claws into a man like you, but I sure as shit want to fuck you again. You good with that?”

A man like me?

A flash zaps before me when I blink. The image of Tanya face down, her soaked pussy desperate for me as I claimed her arse with my cock, wakes me up a little. My dick hardens with the sudden memory. “Think your tight little arse can take more of me?” I smirk at her.

She bites her lip. “Absolutely.” Tanya winks then stands off the bed, walking to the door.

Hearing it click shut, I bend my arm behind my head, staring at the ceiling. I know I should get up soon. There’s a new person starting at the farm today, but I simply can’t be fucking dealing with it. So I won’t. Plenty needs doing around here before Dean’s flight lands, anyway.

The time spent like this; fucking women and drinking until I don’t remember my own name, is just part and parcel of the man I’ve become. I’ve never had a vision of where I pictured my life heading. Never dreamt or wanted for anything except for the freedom to make my own decisions. We only get one life, right? So why would I spend it doing anything other than what I want?

It’s a sad notion, but my aunt and uncle are the only family I have. I don’t want to live out my days working on their farm, but they took me in after my parents took off. It’s funny because, you’d think I’d hate them. You’d think I’d hold some sort of grudge against them for what they did. Truth is, I would probably do the same if it was me. Not run from responsibility like a coward, but live the life I wanted. I mean, it is what I did when I patched in. No amount of hard work and manual labour could keep me away from joining the club I’ve wanted to join since I was a kid.

My Uncle Mick has no ties to Rippers MC. He’s a hardworking man who showed me what it means to have to work to live. Through him, I learned how to get my hands dirty. Learned to never give up and keep my head down. I became disciplined; toughened up due to the early starts and late nights. I became a man because of him. I owe him everything.

In the end though, I chose my surrogate family. The one built on loyalty, trust, and brotherhood. My uncle and aunt love me—I know that, but I will only ever let them down. So why bother pretending? Why bother trying to live up to their expectations?

I gave up trying to impress them when I became a full member of the club. Gave up giving them false hope that one day their livelihood would be safe in my hands. I don’t want it. Don’t care for it. Yeah, I can do everything they need down there, but my rigid, frozen heart isn’t in it.

It doesn’t know what it wants. The only time I feel it beating is when I’m wearing my cut. Other than that, I wouldn’t know it was there apart from the fact I’m still standing and not already buried six feet under.

Do people change? Do they become capable of seeing the world differently? They must do, but I honestly can’t see my life going in any other direction than what it already is. That may sound negative and downright fucking depressing, but you get handed certain cards in life. You can’t change them—can’t simply ask for a new deck and begin a do-over. You have to play them. Good, bad, absolutely fucking bleak… you get on with what you’re given.

Whenever my uncle asks me to help out nowadays, I can’t help but feel a pang of misery and straight up guilt. With him, I don’t need to give any bullshit excuses. He knew the moment I started prospecting and spending less and less time at the farm that he was losing me.

He’ll never lose me. I’m not taking off… I just won’t spend the rest of my days there. I refuse to. I don’t know where I’m going, mind. All I know is the club is where my life truly begins.

More than likely, it will be where it ends, too.