Chapter 4
“You fucking asshole,” I say bitterly. Then, I reach for his belt.
He catches my hand. “Zoe, that’s enough.”
I’m utterly confused. I mean, this is what we do. We run into each other, fight as foreplay, and then screw. I stare at him in shock and soon anger. “What the fuck do you mean that’s enough?” I spit out.
“Where the hell are we going with all this?” he asks.
“Right now, where we’re going is pretty simple. Your dick is going in my cunt unless you’re too much of a fucking wimp to act like a man.” Calling my pussy cunt actually makes me feel powerful. I never do that, ever. It feels dirty and wrong. It’s like… I don’t know. It’s not sexy. I don’t mean I feel powerful because it turns me on. I mean I feel powerful because it further cheapens sex with Grant.
“Only if you say something nice to me,” he says. “I’m not going to have sex with you almost every damned day for the rest of my life and never hear anything nice from you.”
I stare at him for a minute or two and then just roll my eyes and try to get at his belt again. Once more, he catches my hands. “What the fuck is your problem, asshole?” I shout.
“Say something nice to me or don’t,” he says, “but I’m not going to keep this up the way it’s going.”
“After what you did to Allison, you expect me to say something nice to you? You still haven’t apologized or explained anything to me.”
He sighs and says, “I don’t owe you an apology or an explanation, Zoe. Have you told Allison you’re fucking me? Does she know how often my dick is going in your cunt?”
I don’t know if it’s him giving me such a visceral reminder of the fact that sex with him is such an enormous betrayal of Allison or if it’s how he used my words. I don’t feel powerful about it now. Whatever it is, I don’t think about what I do next. My hand moves almost of its own accord and I slap the shit out of his face, glaring at him.
And I’m frightened—I mean, really frightened—for the first time in my life.
For the first time in my life, I see in the eyes of a Mountain Avenger exactly what it means that they’re outlaw bikers. I see all of the violence and criminality that the biker club does away from home. And I see it in the eyes a man who already hates me.
But then, all of the fury disappears from his eyes. “You won’t get an apology from me Zoe,” he says quietly. “You won’t get an explanation. You weren’t owed one back then, and you’re not owed one now.” He steps back and says, “And if you want anything else from me, you’ll have to ask me nicely, like… like this isn’t some pathetic, sick kind of thing that’s going on. I’m sorry, Zoe. I won’t do this. I won’t do this fight and fuck thing any longer.”
He turns around and I just stare at him in shock as he gets onto his Harley Davidson. I want to say something as the motorcycle roars to life but I just can’t. I can only stare as I try to wrap my head around things. And then, something really unexpected happens. I fall to my knees and break own crying. I don’t get it. I’m crying about losing him. This sense of loss seems far more powerful than when my college boyfriend and I split up. This… I don’t understand why I’m sad and not just pissed off.
I only make it to the next morning before I have to see him. I have a plan, though.