6. Jessica
6
Jessica
A fter going down on her, he expects me to drive two hours to have dinner with him. Ha!
I stop at the rink and go into the office because going home isn’t an option. I didn’t know what to tell my dad or if I should. Watcher was probably right. My father knew she was fucking around on him.
“Are you okay?” Diablo asks when she enters the office. “Emily said you might be here.”
“I’m fine. How are your knees?” We really needed her for the next bout.
“It’s good enough to drive to Pine Bluff to stay the night,” she says in the chair across the desk. “I thought maybe you might want to go with me. See what it’s all about.”
“The last thing I want to do is see that asshole.” I tilt my head and look at Diablo. “You know what he did last night?”
She nods. “Kentucky told me Watcher shot four men who had been harassing you.”
“That’s right. Today, I caught him with his face buried in my stepmother’s cunt.”
“He’s a biker, Jessica. They do dumb shit like that, but they’re also good men. Loyal when they have someone to be loyal to.”
“You talk like you’ve been down this road before.” I grab my phone when a text pops up on my screen. I reply to Jeremy, letting him know he’s still an asshole. Diablo keeps talking but she doesn’t understand those men are not my type of people.
“Hellcat,” Diablo says. She smiles like she’s discovered a cure for some rare disease. “That’s your new name on the rink. Hellcat.” She gets up and walks to the door. “Let me show you something.”
Diablo leaves the office, and I hear the back exit door open and close. I’m not driving to Pine Bluff to see a man twice my age who had his mouth on Megan’s pussy. I grab my keys and lock the office before heading out back. Diablo is sitting on a motorcycle, legs spread, feet planted on the ground.
“It’s a Harley Sportster 1200 custom,” Diablo says. “It sits a little low, but it’s my second bike. I’m working my way up.”
The bike shines brighter than one of Megan’s diamonds. I move around the bike, touching the leather seat between Diablo’s legs, and then stand in front of the monster.
“Hellcat,” I say. “I like that name.” The bike is beautiful—not quite a Masareti, but gorgeous nonetheless. “Who taught you how to ride?”
“My father, initially.” She pats the handlebars as if the thing is a pet. “I quit riding for a long time and then picked it up again a few years ago when I met a biker out in Arizona. He rode for a club called Hell’s Justice. Some fucking politician had a bomb dropped on the place. Killed most everyone of them, including the man who got me back into riding.
“Hellcat.”
Diablo nods. “That’s what you remind me of, the way you move around on the rink.” She tilts her head a little, thinking. “Be one hell of a riding name, too.”
“You riding this to Pine Bluff?”
“I am.” She glances at the second seat. “I’d invite you to ride with me, but I haven’t mastered that yet.”
“I’ll follow you in the Maserati.”
“We can swing by your place to get your stuff.” Diablo starts the bike, and the engine rumbles.
“There’s nothing I need there.” There’s not. Megan is home by now and probably scissor fucking Winnie while my father sleeps out by the pool. I need to think. I need a fucking plan for when my father dies. “Lead the way.”
On I-40, I follow Diablo West with everything and nothing on my mind. She said Watcher did what any biker would have done. I find no comfort in that at all. He’s still an asshole. However, I knew Megan and how she operated. She could trick a Southern Baptist Preacher into sticking his dick in her ass—he may have been Presbeteryn. But fuck, the man was twice my age.
Age wasn’t the biggest problem. I was still a virgin, and I never saw myself losing my virginity to a man his age. Part of me was afraid of his size—muscles and cock, though I could only imagine how big his dick was. He’d probably rip me in half if it was anything like his biceps.
Diablo keeps a reasonable distance between us. She called me Hellcat. I love the name. She said it was a good biker name, a good rink name. I smile and press the gas a bit harder, catching up with Diablo. She’s wearing chaps, black boots, and a leather vest. Watcher had been dressed the same way, and the more I think about him, the more I like his look. Maybe he wasn’t my type of person because I didn’t give his type a chance. Honestly, I knew nothing about them .
I think about the other girls, my skating girls, playing with their names: Kat “Scratch” Williams, Emily “Reaper” Venetti, Sandra “Diablo” Collins, Joanne “Punisher” DeVore, and Rosemary “Destroyer” Arnett. It all makes sense. The Memphis Macabre roller derby team was about to undergo a transformation.
We roll into Pine Bluff a little after six and stop at a small café to eat and talk. Diablo gives me the lowdown on bikes and biker clubs, how they were formed, and how memberships and officers are selected. By the time we finish eating, I have everything I need except a bike and someone to teach me how to ride. Luckily, I was in the right town to find both.
I follow Diablo to the Brothers of Chaos club, and we pull into an almost empty parking lot. Big Kentucky sits on a picnic table, drinking a beer. Diablo parks, gets off her bike, and runs for the biker. It’s a scene out of Hollywood.
I stay in the car and watch the two kiss and grope. Diablo is six-three, and Big Kentucky towers over her. He grabs a handful of ass and squeezes. Diablo returns the favor by grabbing a handful of dick.
“Watcher’s inside,” Kentucky says. “I’ll have him come out. Just don’t hurt him.” He smiles and goes inside, leaving Diablo behind.
“We good?” Diablo asks, and I nod. I certainly didn’t want to be a cockblocker. “He’ll be good to you, especially here at the club. Plus, Kentucky told me he would kick Watcher’s ass if he hurt you.”
“Be careful of your knees,” I say and sit on the picnic table when Diablo goes inside.
I can’t believe where I’m at. A shit ton of money, and I’m sitting in a shit hole. Bikers? Really? Maybe this is where I belong, after all. I wasn’t prepared for this any more than I was prepared to lose my cherry to someone with no job, riding a bike and acting like a child. I could have had that at Stanford before the fights.
A garage door opens behind me, and Watcher steps out. The chrome shining on the bikes inside the garage behind him gives him a god-like aura.
He sees me admiring the bikes and waves me over. “You’re about the only one in this town who can afford a mod. Come over and look at them.”
I take a deep breath, unprepared for anything the rest of the night holds. “They are beautiful.” I stand next to Watcher and get my first real sense of the man’s size. Although he doesn’t smell like expensive cologne, the smell of leather cuffs my senses, and I find myself leaning closer to him. He moves deeper into the garage, and I follow. Eventually, he ends up between me and the exit.
“We take the ordinary and make it extraordinary.” He runs his hands across a set of handlebars as if he were caressing a woman’s arms. “Our bikes sell anywhere from fifty to a hundred K.”
I see a smaller bike sitting in the corner. There’s nothing special about it. It sits low and doesn’t seem as big as Diaiblo’s. “I like this one.”
“It needs work,” he says. “Harley-Davidson Sport 883 SuperLow. It’s Harley’s entry-level bike for women.”
“You can make it look like those?” I point at the monster next to me with shining chrome. “I’d prefer purple.”
“We can start on it tomorrow.”
“I wanna help.” His left eyebrow rises. “You don’t let girls work on bikes?”
“I can make it happen.”
He turns off the garage light, and we return to the picnic table. “Not very busy around here.”
“Most of the members are out with their old ladies tonight. After church this afternoon, Beast gave everyone the day off. Things have been quiet lately.” He smiles at my confusion. “I don’t mean church like you do on Sunday mornings or Easter. It’s what we call meetings when all the club members come together to make club decisions.”
I nod as he goes on to explain old ladies and member nicknames. He tells me about the bike he rides and then tells me I owe him for two new tires. He never mentions Megan, and I appreciate that.
“I want your help setting up a club,” I say. “All female riders. I’ll finance the bikes and training and whatever else is needed.” I point at his vest. “I want to start a chapter and be the founder.”
“Going to need a club name.”
“The Memphis Macabre,” I say, but I can tell he hates the name. “You got a better idea, bub?”
Watcher stands and turns his back to me. “The Brothers of Chaos MC.”
To his surprise, I stand and put my hand on his back. “What’re you saying?”
He turns and removes his vest and helps me put it on. “The Sisters of Choas MC. Memphis Chapter. You’ll need an association, and I think I can get the club to do that.”
He remains standing when I sit on top of the picnic table. “I like the smell of your vest.”
“It’s called a cut.” He moves closer and reaches out to hold my hands. I let him without so much as flinching. His dark eyes are steady and mesmerizing like I could sit all night and stare at them.
“I didn’t see myself doing this,” I say. “Especially after today.”
He shrugs but continues to run his thumbs atop my hands. A lump catches in my throat, and I sit silent, watching him as he watches me, his eyes never wavering.
“I’m glad you came.” He takes another step forward, his hips against my spread knees. I think he’s intentionally going slow. He seems to know I’m new to whatever he wants to do.
“There’s something you need to know about me, Watcher.” I look away and take a deep breath. The man is a complete fucking stranger. Am I doing this because he saved my life? I don’t know. Maybe it’s to get back at Megan.
“There’s nothing you can say to make me want to stop.” He releases my hands and places his hands on my knees, his skin warm against mine. “You have the freedom to say no.”
“Are you sure?” The brat inside me seems to cower in a corner, and fear seeps its way into my head. “I should probably go.”
He steps away, and disappointment replaces the fear, sending it back to cower with the brat.
“You didn’t mean it, did you,” he says. It’s not a question. It’s him telling me I have no reason to be afraid. It’s him seeping into my mind and making himself at home.
“No, I didn’t.” I reach for his hands, and he moves forward between my knees. This time, he holds my chin in his hand.
“You can stop this anytime, Jess.” He chuckles, and there’s a sparkle in his dark eyes. “But I promise, you’ll never want it to stop once it starts.”
I want to ask him how he knows that. What makes him think he’s so special? But I don’t because I love his confidence. I love how he’s easing himself into taking control, almost lulling me into submission.
Watcher takes a step back when another biker rumbles into the parking lot. He has a woman on the back of his bike and helps her off when they park. The man is a monster, but the woman is built like I am. He slides his arm across her shoulders as they approach.
“I knew it was a mistake sending you there, but I figured you deserved the opportunity to redeem yourself,” the man says. He looks at me like he’s seen me before.
“This is Jessica Stallone,” Watcher says, nodding at the man. “Jessica, this is Beast. He’s the club President.”
“Your father owns the Memphis Stallions.” Beast gives Watcher the side-eye. “Let’s talk.” He starts away but stops and turns. “It’s nice to meet you, Miss Stallone.”
“I’ll be back,” Watcher says and winks. “Maybe.” He pats my leg and walks away, leaving me behind with the other woman.
“It’s a lot to take in,” she says. “My name is Melissa, by the way. The club calls me Skittles.”
“Does he treat you well?” I ask.
Skittles chuckles. “Better than any man has ever treated me. I wouldn’t be here if he was an asshole.” She sits beside me and takes a beer out of the ice bucket on the table. “Don’t get me wrong, he has his moments, but I wouldn’t trade this life for anything else.” She grabs another beer. “You old enough?”
“No,” I say and take the beer. “But I am aging quickly.”
“Watcher is a good guy. Fucking weird in a lot of ways, but if you stick around with him, he’ll treat you right.”
“I’m not sure what my plans are,” I say. “I need something in my life. People think all my money makes me happy and gives me everything I could ever want. It’s not true.”
“Yeah, but most people prefer the opportunity to find that out.” She places the bottle on the table. “You need to know Watcher comes with a lot of baggage. He’ll tell you that. I’m telling you so you’ll give him a chance.”
“Thanks.” I point at the bike she and Beast rode in on. “Do you ride?”
“Absolutely not.” She sees my frown and slides off the table. But that doesn’t mean you can’t.” She walks over to the bike but doesn’t get on. “You want to ride,” she says.
“I think so.” I join her by the bike. “But I want more than that. I want my own gang.”
“You want your own club,” she says. “Don’t let them hear you call it a gang.”
“I have a lot to learn.” I motion at the closed garage door. “Watcher says there’s a bike in there we can work on. He’s going to teach me how to ride.”
“If you decide to stay, I’ll teach you about club life and what to expect as an old lady.” She laughs when I cringe. “It’s not as bad as it sounds. You’ll get used to it.”
“Is he getting his ass chewed for bringing me here?” We walk back to the table, and Skittles finishes her beer.
“Probably,” she says. “But I wouldn’t worry too much about it.”
“It’s my father, isn’t it.”
Skittles takes a deep breath, and I sense we are getting into uncomfortable territory. She can’t speak for the club. “Let me say this. Your father is trying to move the Memphis chapter out of its current location. That’s not cool. He’s got a ton of money and can make it difficult on the club. What happens to one chapter happens to all the chapters.”
“I can talk to him.”
“You can, but when a man like your father wants something, there’s not much talking that will change his mind.” She’s right. I’d heard him say several times that he wanted that biker trash away from the property he owned. There was no changing his mind.
“What about my age?” I ask. “Is that okay with the club?”
“Girl, as long as you are eighteen, you’re good with the club.” She holds up a finger. “However, make damn sure you don’t piss off another old lady by eyeing her man.”
“That won’t happen.” I toss the idea around in my head, unsure if I should mention it. If Emily were around, we’d talk about it. Maybe even Diablo. “I’m a virgin.” And just like that, I put it out there as if making a profound statement to the whole world.
“We all were at some point,” she says, and I giggle.
“I like that. I thought you were going to say then I should go. This wouldn’t be the place for me.”
“I’m guessing you aren’t the first virgin Watcher has ever had.” She gets up when Watcher exits the building. “He’ll take care of you. I promise,” she whispers. “Just be prepared for some of the shit he’s into.”
“Everything good?” Watcher looks from me to Skittles back to me.
“See,” Skittles says, “he still has some ass left.” She laughs and disappears inside.
“How’d that go?” I take several drinks from the bottle and set it down. He doesn’t appear angry or disappointed. He smiles and grabs the last beer from the bucket.
“First, he called me a dumbass but then told me if I didn’t treat you right, he’d personally turn me over to your father. We’re all good.” He smiles again and puts his hand on my knee, gently squeezing. I’ve never been around a man whose presence made me feel as protected and safe as Watcher’s. Money can’t buy that kind of protection.
“I think you’re lulling me into complacency,” I say.
“Is that a good thing or a bad thing?”
“I’m not sure.”
He stands there a long time, looking at me. Neither of us says a word, trying to figure out if this is the right thing to do. I figure he’ll try to fuck me and then send me on my way, putting another notch in his biker belt.
“Each club officer has a room here at the club,” he says. You’re going to have to stay somewhere tonight.” He lifts me off the table and onto my feet. “I have a house a couple of miles down the road. It has three bedrooms and two bathrooms.”
“Diablo is staying here?”
“Her and Kentucky are already in his room.” He glances at the building. “From the sound of things on the inside, they’re banging it out pretty good.”
“Is that what you want to do.” Doesn’t every man? Isn’t that why he wanted me here?
“I’m not going to bullshit you, Jessica. I’m a horny motherfucker. Yeah, I want to make you scream, but I’m not going to move so fast that it causes me to lose something I believe could be special. Just because I’m a man doesn’t mean I’m an asshole.” He releases my hands and steps away, walking to his bike. “You can drive or let me give you a ride.”
“I’ll let you give me a ride.” He likes the smirk I add. I know what he meant, and I like the way he said it. He hands me a helmet, and I climb on behind him, scooting my crotch up against him. I wrap my arms around his waist and press my hands against his hard abs. Fuck, he’s something else. I put my chin on his shoulder and close my eyes, his scent divine.
I’m not sure what I’ll do once we get there. Thought this would happen in my house while my father was gone and Megan was off fucking someone. Is he ready for the mess that Google has told me will be made? Maybe nothing will happen. I squeeze his waist a little harder, and he presses back against me.
I don’t know why I do it, but I drop a hand to his crotch, brushing against his hard dick. The bike jerks forward, and Watcher turns his head. He smiles and then watches the road.
I was expecting a dump. A car with no wheels, a pitbull chained in the front yard, and trash piled up in the driveway. Watcher’s house is anything but. The yard obviously has lawn care services. The house looks newly painted. I climb off the bike and follow him to the front door. On the porch, he turns and kisses me.
His kiss is deep and sensual. His fingertips slide up and down my arms. Though I was a virgin, I thought I was experienced. I’d kissed and groped with the best of boys. But they were precisely that—boys. Watcher was not.
His fingers stop, and he holds my arms, lips still together, the night’s heat a pleasant assault. I remembered what he said earlier: I would never want him to stop once things started. He was right. At least, that’s how I felt on the porch. I understand he’s holding on so tightly because my knees are weakening.
Our mouths open and meet, his tongue long but not suffocating. I want to touch him. Want to feel his skin against mine. Tears well in my eyes, and I fiercely fight to hide the tears despite them being tears of happiness.
Watcher breaks the kiss and stares, his dark blues zone in on my green. He wipes my tears with his thumb and smiles. Fuck, he’s mythologically god-like.
“This is not what I expected,” I say.
“Which part?” He crosses his arms and smiles. Although I don’t think I’d want to see him angry, I wonder if he ever is. Even when he dealt with the four men who tried to take me, he showed no anger.
“Honestly, I was expecting a trailer with a broken screen door, beer cans in the yard, and your granny sitting on the porch smoking a pipe.” Saying it was much worse than thinking it. “I’m sorry.”
Watcher turns away and unlocks the door. He pushes the door open and steps out of the way. “Welcome to my shithole.” He winks and walks in behind me.
No beer cans. No leftover pizza still in the pizza box sitting on the coffee table. No posters of naked women or used condoms on the floor.
“Yes, I did it myself.”
“Fuck.”
“Everything in the living room is real leather. The wood from the coffee and end tables came from a designer in Crystal Falls, Kentucky. There’s something special about the type of wood. Big Kentucky suggested the woodmaker.” He puts his gun and keys on the coffee table and removes his boots. “I’ve got beer, wine, and water.”
I follow him to a kitchen that shouldn’t belong to a man who rides a bike and beats people up. “I’ll have a beer.”
“Can’t do it. You’re underage.”
“That going to stop you from having sex with me?”
He hands me the beer and we head back into the living room for the couch. “You are eighteen, right?”
“I don’t know. Am I?”
We clink beers together and take a couple of swallows, putting our bottles on the table simultaneously. As I lean back, Watcher moves me onto his lap, my legs straddling his waist. He lifts my shirt over my head and tosses it to the side.
“You’re a beautiful young woman,” he says, hands resting on my waist.
I don’t tell him, but it is the first time a man has said those words to me. I’ve been told I have a killer body, but nobody complimented me on my looks in such a romantic way.
“Thank you,” is all I manage to say.
His thumbs rise up the center of my stomach, his fingers on my ribs. For a man who works on bikes and punches people, his touch is gentler than anything I’ve ever experienced.
“A woman’s body is truly a temple.”
“Thank you.”
Watcher reaches around me and unsnaps my bra, letting it fall from my arms. He tosses it next to the shirt.
I stare at him, staring at my breasts. He licks his lips, and then his thumbs are rubbing my nipples. Not hurting, caressing.
I press a little harder on his lap and feel the hardness of his cock pressing back. I’m scared of having him inside me. I think about leaving and feel the rush of tears working upward from my soul.
“No reason to be afraid,” he says. “I can see it in your eyes, babe. I won’t lie. It will hurt, and I will do what I can to lessen the pain.”
“Okay,” I whimper, unconvinced. “Can we go to the bedroom?”
Watcher nods and, in one quick movement, gets up with me wrapped around his waist, our lips coming together as he carries me down the hall.
He eases me onto the bed and crawls over me, his lips finding mine only briefly before they find my nipples. I watch him suck and squeeze, never hurting me, looking up often, his eyes caring. When he pulls at my waistband, I lift my ass so he can remove them. He leaves my panties on, and I’m almost embarrassed by how wet I am. Before he goes any further, I lift his tee over his head and toss it next to the shorts.
“Fuck, Watcher.”
He plants a kiss on my panty-covered pussy, and his eyes shift to mine. I watch as his tongue pokes at the fabric, spreading me. I lift my ass again, and he removes my shorts, my chest heaving with anticipation.
I’m surprised at how long he stays down on me, licking and caressing. Seconds turn to minutes, and minutes turn to something I’ve never experienced—the orgasm seemingly building from a galaxy far, far away. For the first time in my life, I climax beneath the touch of a man.
Watcher kisses my thighs and watches me, his dark eyes telling me what comes next.
He scoots off the bed and removes his pants and boxer briefs. Another first in my life—I was with a real man.
Watcher crawls back onto the bed and kisses my feet, licking my toes and ankles, sliding upward along my legs, and kissing my pussy again and again before his eyes fall on mine.
“Slow and easy, baby,” he says, and I nod. The fear is gone, replaced by more anticipation.
Leaving his eyes, I look down between us and watch the head of his cock press against my moist lips.
“I’m good,” I say, throwing a wicked smile. I look back down and watch, my hands grasping his forearms.
Watcher presses a bit harder but stops when I squirm. “You okay?”
“Better than ever.”
He reaches down and grabs his cock, rubbing the head back and forth and up and down between my lips. I swallow hard and take a deep breath. He’s moving in me now, slowly, his eyes shifting to mine now, no reason to look down.
Deeper. More pain. Not bad, but it’s there. He kisses me, and as our tongues become entangled, he moves deeper again.
I feel him pressing against me, tight, wide, still wet. And then I feel a sharp pain, a tearing pain, and I wince. He stops and waits.
“I’m okay,” I say, returning my lips to his. “Don’t stop.”
I look down this time and watch his entire cock disappear. He pulls out, and I see blood.
“It’s okay,” he says. He wipes the blood off his cock with his shirt and then reaches into the nightstand, grabbing a condom. Once he has it on, he moves back inside, his thrusts a little more intentional, a little harder. Though I’m still in pain, I want him inside me. Not because it feels good but because it is him. It is Watcher. My protector. The man who saved my life.
Minutes later, he comes, still fucking me, albeit slower.
“Damn,” I say.
He removes the condom, and I make a quick trip to the bathroom. The girl in the mirror is no longer a girl. Maybe I’m supposed to cry, but I don’t. I smile at myself. “Watcher,” I say as if he’s in the room. I start to cry, and instead of fighting the tears, I let them flow, knowing it was time for a change. Knowing the brat of old was gone, and a strong woman was emerging. It’s what Mom would have wanted.
I suck it up and wipe away the tears, take a deep breath, and go back to be with the man who has made things a lot clearer in my life.
Back in the bedroom, I crawl beneath the covers and wait for Watcher to make his own bathroom trip. When he returns, he crawls in next to me, and I scoot my ass back against his cock. An arm comes over me, his face buried in the crook of my neck. Fuck, that really did just happen.