“You know what you could do?” I shot back. “You could get the fuck out of my room!”
“Sorry, baby,” he said, shaking his head. “Nothin’ is gonna make me leave until either your old man or Foxy gives me the go-ahead.”
I stared at him, my thoughts a violent mess, only able to focus on what was wrong with my life and how I could make it worse. I was on autopilot, destined to destruction without a return ticket. No matter how desperately I wanted to turn this fucked-up ride around, to head back to what was good, to when I was happy, I didn’t know how.
“Nothing?” I sneered, pushing up off my bed. “Nothing at all, huh?”
I deliberately ran my eyes up and down his body. And it was an impressive body. ZZ was six feet of solid, toned muscle that showed underneath his plain white tee and formfitting leathers. On his right bicep hell’s was tattooed in big, bold lettering, and below it, on his forearm, read horsemen.
His dark brown hair was pulled back in a ponytail, showing off his small hoop earrings, and wrapped around his neck was a black leather strip, identical to the ones on each of his wrists. All in all, ZZ was a big, sexy man package that I was about to try and exploit.
But however sexy ZZ might be, he wasn’t dumb. Far from it. He watched me eye-fuck him, his lips twitching.
“Ain’t gonna work,” he said.
“Why? You don’t think I’m pretty?”
He snorted. “I’d have to be blind or just straight up dumb not to, but I like my women a little less…ripe.”
I shrugged off the insult even as it cut me. I wanted to shower. No, I wanted to want to shower. I wanted to want a lot of things. I just…couldn’t figure out how.
“Okay,” I said, shrugging nonchalantly, grabbing the bottom of my T-shirt and lifting it over my head. I tossed it across my room and watched ZZ’s eyes drop to my bare breasts.
“Put your shirt back on,” he said, his tone blasé but the subtle tightening in his jaw gave him away.
“How about I do this instead?” I shoved down my jeans and underwear and kicked them aside. Naked, I glared at ZZ. “Still nothing I can do?”
He took an extra long drag off his cigarette before answering. “No,” he said tightly. “Put your fuckin’ clothes on before your old man walks in here and see’s you actin’ like this.”
“Like I care!”
“Do you care about me?” he shot back. “If someone walks in on this shit, they’re gonna get the wrong idea and I’m gonna be takin’ the blame for it. You want your old man to shoot me? Thanks a lot.”
If your old man caps me, you better be front and center at my fuckin’ funeral, cryin’ your goddamn eyes out.
I squeezed my eyes shut, shuddering through the painful memory ZZ’s similar words had stirred up inside me, and fought back my rising emotions.
“Then you better hurry,” I hissed. “And fuck me before anyone walks in.”
Muttering curses, ZZ dropped his cigarette on the floor and crushed it with the toe of his boot. Next, he reached behind him and pulled his gun from his leathers. After setting it down on my desk, he started for me, already unzipping his leathers.
My anger turned to panic. Oh god, why was I doing this? Why was I acting like a crazy slut? What was wrong with me? Why couldn’t I stop it? Just shut it off? I didn’t want to have sex with ZZ any more than I wanted to be lashing out at my family.
But everything hurt. Every heartbeat a knife to my chest, every breath more painful than the last. It hurt straight to my bones, freezing my blood and straining my muscles, making me ache…so…bad.
And I couldn’t make it stop.
“You want to fuck,” ZZ hissed, grabbing my biceps and pushing me. I stumbled, trying to keep up with him as he began forcing me backward. “I’ll fuck you, Danny. That body of yours is worth an ass kickin’ or two.”
I wanted to scream, NO, that I didn’t want this to happen but I couldn’t, my pain keeping my mouth shut, demanding that I continue to hurt myself, my pain telling me that I deserved this, I deserved worse than this.
“But first,” he muttered. “Your ass is takin’ a shower.”
I shrieked as cold water spiked against my skin, not realizing until that very moment he’d backed me into my bathroom and straight into the shower.
“Let me out of here!” I screamed, violently thrashing as he held me under the spray of water, now lukewarm. But he didn’t. ZZ held fast, my punches, slaps, and kicks not fazing him in the least. And still I continued, hitting him harder and harder until I was crying, sobbing uncontrollably, relentlessly beating on him and the worst thing was…
He let me.
He just stood there and took it.
And when it was over, when I’d wrung the last tear from my exhausted body, when I could no longer stand on my own two feet, he wrapped me in a towel, picked me up, and tucked me into bed.
“You were never going to have sex with me,” I whispered, blinking sleepily up at him. “Were you?”
“No,” he whispered back, brushing a lock of wet hair out of my eyes. “I wasn’t.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Seven months later…
Blasting Cannibal Corpse, Ripper pulled his truck off the Harbor Freeway and onto Wilshire Boulevard. Shit was going good. He’d quit drinking hard liquor, stopped smoking green, and work was solid. He’d done a couple of hits for Deuce on the side, earning him a nice bankroll, and he was fucking some airheaded bitch named Colleen or Colette or whatever, that he liked well enough. Liked as in she had a pussy, he had a dick, and if he kept the lights off he didn’t have to see a face that wasn’t the one he wanted to see. You put two and two together and it added up to him not feeling the need to scope out other pussy for the time being.
Yeah, he was an asshole. But a dude’s gotta do what a dude’s gotta do, yeah?
Yeah. Whatever. He was so full of shit, it wasn’t even shit anymore; he was straight up pissing out of his asshole.
Shit wasn’t going good. Shit was just…going.
Barely.
The more time that passed, the more Ripper found himself thinking about a lot of things. About his life before the club, his life with the club, Frankie. Even Eva.
All this free time away from everything he’d known had put a lot of shit into perspective for him. Like how he’d been able to get away from Frankie.
“Eva’s blowin’ up my fuckin’ phone, brother.”
Ripper heard Frankie jump to his feet, heard his heavy booted steps crossing the floor, heard a door creak open, then slam shut.
It took a moment to realize that he was alone.
Eva had saved his life and he’d done nothing but blame her. Maybe subconsciously he’d always known it was Eva who’d saved him, maybe saving his life was what he’d been blaming her for.
Either way, he was a first class asshole.
But mostly he thought about Danny and why she’d stopped calling him.
It bothered him at first. He’d thought something might have happened to her, and he didn’t know how to ask anyone without making them suspicious of why he was asking. But then Deuce had casually mentioned her a few times, so he knew she was still breathing. And like everything else when it came to Danny, he let it drop.
And moved the fuck on.
It was for the best that she’d forgotten about him and what had happened.
Yeah, it was for the best. He just had to keep telling himself that.
Hitting his turn signal, he made a right onto his parents’ street and—
Cox, that stupid motherfucker, was standing in the middle of his driveway, grinning at him.
“Fuckin’ hell,” he said, laughing.
He’d barely cleared the truck when Cox surprised the hell out of him and pulled him into a hard hug.
“Fuck you,” Cox growled, squeezing him hard. “Fuck you for makin’ me look for you.”
They pulled apart.
“Dude. Nice hair.”
Laughing, Ripper rubbed his han
d over his shaved head and shrugged. “Don’t gotta shower as much.”
Cox snorted. “Nice.”
“Yeah, and what about you? Nice fuckin’ tat,” he said, nodding at the new tattoo of Kami that Cox had on his neck. “What’s that now, your third one of her?”
Cox shrugged. “What can I say? She likes to look at herself.”
He started laughing. “Brother, I need a drink. You want a drink?”
“Depends,” Cox said. “I can’t do strip clubs. Kami fuckin’ knew last time. The bitch can smell a lie a mile away and I ain’t gettin’ locked out of pussy that I fuckin’ own for two whole weeks again. I swear, Ripper, the bitch is psychic. Psychic and crazy and—”
Ripper held his hand up.
“Thanks for sharin’ ’cause, really, I give two fucks about your crazy old lady, but I was only talkin’ brews that I got sittin’ on ice in the kitchen.”
Cox laughed. “Let’s do it.”
Once they both had a drink and were seated, Cox slapped his hand down on the table and grinned at Ripper. “Reason I’m here, brother, is Prez is gettin’ married next week.”
“So?”
“So? That’s your fuckin’ prez and I know you been talkin’ to him. I know he hasn’t said jack shit about you comin’ home for the weddin’, but we both know Prez and you fuckin’ know he wants you there.”
At the thought of seeing Danny again, Ripper’s stomach tightened in anticipation. Even so, he shook his head. “Naw, I already explained this shit to you—”
Cox’s fist came down hard on the table. “You didn’t explain shit! You said you were fucked-up and left. You ain’t lookin’ all that fucked-up to me, and I’m tellin’ you, it’s time to come the fuck home.”
Ripper couldn’t help but grin. “Miss me, huh? Or does Kami miss me?”
For the first time since Cox and Kami got serious, Cox actually smiled at one of his Kami jabs.
“Brother,” Cox said. “Shit has smoothed out back home. Things are good between Prez and Foxy, and whatever the fuck you think you’re goin’ through, you can come back home and go through it there. Where we are. Your fuckin’ family. Havin’ your back.”
“So…everyone is good?” he asked slowly, only really caring about one person in particular.
Cox grimaced. “Prez and Foxy are good, but I’m pretty sure Hawk’s gone crazy, actin’ like an angry hermit and hatin’ on Jase somethin’ fierce for some reason that he’s refusin’ to share with the rest of us.”
Looked like Hawk was still hard up for D.
“Then,” Cox continued, “there was the bullshit with Danny and seriously, brother, I thought Deuce was gonna have her locked up, it was that bad.”
Ripper kept his gaze on his beer even as his entire body jerked to attention at the mention of Danny’s name.
“What was wrong with Danny?” he asked quietly, picking at the label on his beer.
Cox shook his head. “Who the fuck knows? She just stopped talkin’, started gettin’ drunk and high and, get this, hangin’ out with Dirty. She was makin’ scenes left and right, cryin’ and screamin’ at everyone. Straight up, brother, I ain’t never seen a good girl go bad so fuckin’ quick.”
Ripper swallowed thickly, feeling sick to his stomach.
“She good now?” he asked hoarsely.
Cox lifted his shoulder. “She’s better. She ain’t the same but she’s goin’ to college now and her and ZZ are all up in each other—”
Everything just stopped. Screeched to a motherfucking, backbreaking halt. His heart included.
“What?” Ripper interrupted. “Danny and ZZ, what?”
Cox snorted. “Yeah, dude, Danny and ZZ. In love. Fuckin’ crazy, huh?”
Christ. Jesus fucking Christ. No. NO. Aw god, no. He went from feeling sick to pretty sure he was going to vomit.
“Don’t even ask me how those two got together ’cause I don’t know, but Prez is dealin’ with it. He isn’t happy but he’s a whole lot happier than he was when Danny was actin’ nuts. He knows it was because of Z that she stopped flushin’ her whole fuckin’ life down the shitter.”
No. No. No. Just…no.
“And ZZ’s been takin’ some pretty bad beat-downs, which is a whole lot of fuckin’ awesome if you ask me.”
Ripper wasn’t listening anymore. He was too busy trying to remember how to breathe. He’d wanted Danny to move on, forget about him, to meet a guy who would be good to her, give her all the shit he couldn’t…he’d wanted…
How long had he been gone? Around a year? One motherfucking year and she was already in bed with one of his brothers. In love? They were in-motherfucking-love?
She’d lied. The bitch had to have straight up lied. She’d never loved him. He’d been a damn fool to think an eighteen-year-old with a foot still in the cradle had been capable of anything other than the selfish desire to fill the hole inside of her that her fucked-up family had caused.
So, yeah. He’d gotten what he wanted. Only now he knew the truth.
He’d never had it to begin with.
“Ripper?”
He had to clear his throat several times before answering. “Yeah?”
“You’re comin’ back with me, right?”
They stared at each other.
“Why the fuck not,” he choked out, then picked up his beer and downed the remaining contents in one long swallow.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
One week later…
“Danny,” ZZ whispered in my ear. “Wake up, baby. I fuckin’ want you.”
Yawning, I stretched languidly, allowing ZZ to roll me onto my stomach. Spreading my legs apart, he situated himself behind me and began pushing inside.
I moaned softly as I stretched for him, enjoying the pleasurable burn as he fully seated himself. Spreading my legs farther apart, I dug my fingers into the pillows and arched my hips up, pushing back against him. One of his hands came down over my own, interlocking our fingers.
“Fuck,” he growled, moving slowly in and out of me. “Fuckin’ angel wings are hot as fuck, baby.”
I smiled against the pillow. My angel wings were my newest tattoo, taking up almost my entire back. It had taken eight separate sittings, but the heavily detailed and beautifully done wings, with tips that curled around my waist, ending at my belly button, were worth it. I absolutely loved them.
“Harder, Z,” I whimpered, writhing under him.
His hips slammed into mine, over and over again, harder and harder but…
It was never enough. Sex with ZZ was always good, but something was missing. And no matter what I did to fill the hole, nothing worked. Most times, I didn’t finish.
“Stop,” I said, getting to my knees, pulling away from him. I scooted down on the bed on my back and held my arms out for him. Grinning, he covered my body with his and pushed back inside of me, groaning heavily.
“Go slow,” I whispered, wrapping my arms around his shoulders and my legs around his backside, holding him close.
I kept my eyes tightly closed as ZZ began his slow, leisurely thrusts, picturing a different man in my arms, moving inside of me, loving me.
But no matter how hard I tried to pretend, reality always ended up winning.
Ripper was gone.
Pulling out of me, ZZ rolled onto his side. “Fuck, that was good. Love you, baby.”
“Love you too,” I whispered, brushing my lips across his shoulder. “Gonna go get something to drink, you want?”
He didn’t answer me. He was snoring, already sound asleep with the condom still on. Rolling my eyes, I crawled over him and hopped out of bed, headed for the bathroom to clean up.
After filling up an empty glass with tap water, I leaned against his bathroom doorway and studied him.
I’d never had any intention of being with another man ever again, and after my embarrassing incident with ZZ, I’d certainly never expected to end up with him. I’m still not even sure how it happened. He just sort of started integrating himself into
my life. Watching television with me, eating meals with me, finding excuses to talk to me about pointless, random things, things I’d known he wasn’t interested in and to be honest, neither was I. Not anymore. In fact, I’d had little interest in much aside from sleeping, eating, and of course, breathing. That was an important one.
Then one day, in the middle of a particularly gruesome horror movie, he kissed me. It was an awful kiss; foreign lips and a taste I didn’t recognize, belonging to a mouth I didn’t love. After several emotionally brutal seconds, I had to pull away. But ZZ wouldn’t let me go.
“I wanna be your man,” he whispered.
Fighting tears, I looked down at my hands.
My man. He couldn’t be my man, no one could.
I’d already had my man…
And lost him.
There would be no one else. It was a fact I could feel deep within me, one that made my body ache in remembrance.
“Already talked to your old man, Danny.”
Surprised, I glanced up at him and noticed for the first time his black eye and a rather large gash on his cheek. Always so consumed by my thoughts, I’d somehow looked over the fact that ZZ had been badly beaten.
“Oh my god,” I whispered. “He did this to you?”
ZZ laughed. “I’m fine, baby. It’s worth it, anyway, if it means I’m gonna get what I want.”
Me. He wanted me. He’d taken a beating just for the opportunity to ask me out.
Ripper hadn’t…
Ripper hadn’t ever wanted to tell my father.
“Kiss me again,” I said hoarsely as my tears blossomed. And he did.
It was still awful. And wrong. But instead of stopping, I kissed him harder, I held him tighter, I encouraged him to touch me roughly.
I continued to torture my already broken heart; I made it hurt, more and more, until I didn’t think I could bear the pain for one more second.
And then he was inside of me.
Like a bullet cracking out of its chamber, in an instant, the pain was gone.