Family (Men of Steel #5.5) (15 page)

CHAPTER ONE

Unexpected

~Tessie~

No, no, no, don’t die, dammit. Fuck my life.

It is two in the morning, I just got off work from the bar, and tonight has already been a long damn night. We have been busier since the Desert Ghosts Motorcycle Club arrived in town. They must be working with the Hellions on something to be here, returning as often as they do.

Staying in this small place, they only have two options for a spot to grab a beer.
Tiny’s,
where a man that is far from tiny will be serving them, or find me and the girls at
Ruthless
. Since they are in business with the Hellions, they come to
Ruthless
. Although not Hellion owned, it is known as their place to grab a drink and unwind.

I am on my way to pick up Axel, my son, when my little Honda Civic begins dying a slow, painful death as my dashboard lights up like a Christmas tree. I have just enough time to pull it safely to the side of the road before it shuts off completely.

No! This can’t be happening
, I think to myself as I try to restart the car.

Turning the key over in the ignition, I am left with silence surrounding me. Click. Click. Click. Nothing.

Looking over at my cell phone, I think of my limited options for aid. Who can I call at two in the morning to come give me a ride?

I don’t want my mom to have to get dressed and then get Axel dressed to come out here. Plus, I am still going to need to have the car towed. I knew I should have signed up for one of those automotive clubs, but damn that would be another bill. A bill I certainly can’t afford.

Picking up my cell phone, I dial the one person I know that can help me get a ride and get my car towed all in a quick manner as well as keep it within a reasonable budget.

“Hey, Doll, sorry to call so late,” I say when she answers.

“No problem; what’s wrong, Tessie?” she asks, the sleepy tone in her voice reminding me normal people don’t keep my kind of schedule.

Shit, I woke her up. I feel even more guilt now, but she is one of the few friends I have. Plus, she will come get me, no question, since Tripp and Rex are away on a transport. I would’ve been tempted to call Rex; however, I have promised myself no more. Luckily, he is away, so the urge is gone, leaving me with Doll. If they were home, Rex would’ve been at the bar tonight, either to troll for fresh pussy or give me an orgasm in the stock room before the night was over. Rex and I have a fucked up history - one centered around sex, sometimes a little more, but mostly it is just about getting off. Well, that was until recently when I made the decision to cut him out of my life as much as possible.

“My car broke down out on Miller’s Hill Road. It won’t start back up and I need to get home. I’m sorry for bothering you. I didn’t know who else I could call,” I say as I hear a noise in the background.

Doll is mumbling something, but I can’t bring myself to focus on her as my blood runs cold when I hear Tripp’s voice say
his
name.

Shit, Rex! He can’t come get me. No. No. No. He cannot come with me to get Axel. Panic is setting in as I run through how this night is going. He will ask me where my son is. He always asks me about Axel. My plan was to get Doll on her way and call my mom to keep him overnight. If Rex is too close, I won’t have time to make the call. Then he will wonder why we can’t go get him.

“No worries, Tessie, Rex will be there shortly to get you,” I hear her say his name, snapping me out of my thoughts.

“Rex? I th… thought they were on a transport,” I stammer, questioning why he is back.

“Oh, they got back about an hour ago. Tripp heard you talking so he called him while we’ve been on the phone. He’ll pick you up and get your car taken care of. Do you need a ride tomorrow?”

“No, Doll. Thanks, you’ve done so much already. I gotta go. I need to call my mom so she’s not expecting me right away for Axel.” With that, we hang up.

Making a quick call to my mom, I ask her to keep Axel overnight for me. Since he’s already asleep, this works out better for him anyway. Regardless of who comes, none of the Hellions are going to lay eyes on Axel.

Knowing my son is settled, I have to prepare myself to see Rex. I seem to lose all self-control when he’s around. I always have. Boundaries, I have given myself mental boundaries with him. He is never going to grow up, so I have stopped holding out for that. He is also never going to commit to me or anyone else, for that matter. I have given up on that pipe dream. With that said, I have to set the boundaries for my body more firmly. No more allowing lust to takeover.

Rex is sex walking, period, end of story. He has shoulder length, dirty blond hair. Eyes that are piercing blue, a body that’s got defined muscles, and ink that makes you want to lick every inch of his skin. The thing about Rex, he knows he is the whole package. He knows he looks good. He’s confident in his bedroom abilities, as he should be. There is also this edge to him. The same edge that all the Hellions carry. The thing that draws the barflies to them like a man lost in the desert to water.

Headlights coming my way draw my attention. Then a wrecker pulls up in front of my little car. I hold my breath as the driver side door opens, my mouth dropping open when it’s not Rex who climbs out.

At six feet tall, with broad shoulders and all muscle, the man coming to me is another example of the edge all the Hellions carry. His long-sleeved, black T-shirt pulls tightly against his well-defined chest, abs, and arms. His normally spiked blonde hair is hidden under an old, worn out, baseball hat. The jeans he is wearing are well washed and fit him like a pair of broken in shoes, comfortable perfection. Black motorcycle boots stop in front of me, drawing my attention back to my situation.

“Hey, Tessie, let’s get you loaded up and home to your boy.”

“Shooter,” is all I manage.

“Yeah, baby, you get me. Rex called. He couldn’t make it, but didn’t want you on the side of the road.”

This is the moment my heart should sink a little that Rex isn’t coming to help me. What surprises me, though, is I don’t feel short changed in the least bit. I don’t feel let down. For once, I feel absolutely nothing for Drexel ‘Rex’ Crews.

~Shooter~

Damn him! Brother or not, right now, I want to kick his ass. I swear I heard him speaking to someone else as I answered the phone,
“Suck it harder, bitch.”
Instead of dropping the barfly, he calls me to pick up his woman off the side of the road. Only Tessie isn’t his ol’ lady; she’s just his back up pussy; the pussy he doesn’t want to hold onto yet won’t let go of, either.

Tessie is beautiful. She deserves so much better than Rex or any man the likes of us. She’s petite, maybe five-feet-four, with dark brown hair and brown eyes that dance when she smiles. Her perky breasts are what most may consider small, but they fit her body perfectly. She has a round ass, but not overly large, just enough to really grip as she rides you. With Tessie, though, it’s more than that. She is genuine, caring, and sweet. Loyal to a fault sometimes, she puts up with a lot of shit, not only from our club, but all the guys going into the bar. 

I won’t lie to myself; I have watched her for years with Rex, envious as hell. Tessie accepts him as he is, whatever he gives her. I have never met a woman who can easily understand and take a man truly at face value the way Tessie does, not only with Rex, but all of us.

I have been a patched member of the Catawba Hellions MC for five years now. My boss, Ryder, introduced me to the club after he patched in with the Haywood’s charter. His wife Dina’s father was an original before he passed away tragically in a car accident years ago.

I make the almost hour commute daily to work at Ryder’s Restorations in Charlotte. Most days, I paint cars for him. Occasionally, I step in on some fabrication, but it’s rare. The pay is good, business is good, and the guys at the shop are good. I could relocate to a place closer to work, but I don’t want to be in the city. I like being close to my club and not having neighbors close by. This life is simple and calm compared to what I have seen in my past.

I am going through the routine of hooking up Tessie’s car to the wrecker. My buddy here in Catawba has a towing and recovery business. He said he would come get her, but I couldn’t do that to Tessie. She’s a single mom, by herself on an old road in the middle of nowhere, and it is beyond late. A familiar face might make things a little better, especially since I don’t know how disappointed she is over Rex not coming personally.

Glancing over my shoulder, I see she’s watching me.

“Need help?” she asks, sticking her hands in her jean pockets.

“Nah, baby, I got it. Go ahead and get in. I’ll be a few minutes, and then we’ll get you home.”

She nods at me before proceeding to get in the truck. The 1993 silver Honda Civic she has been driving certainly has seen better days. Once we get this to the shop, I’m going to give it a complete over-haul. She has a kid to get home to.

Jobs here are few and far between. The bar is really the only place she could go right now without leaving her mom behind to work in the city. It’s a small town, people talk, and Tessie hasn’t had an easy life.

With the car secure, I climb in behind the wheel to tow it back to my place. Looking over to the passenger seat, I see she has fallen asleep against the door already. Reaching over, I buckle her in, and she startles and wakes.

“Shooter, thank you.”

“Anytime, baby. You need me to take you to your mom’s or your place?” I ask, wondering if she needs to pick up her son.

“My house, please. Mom didn’t want me to wake Axel.”

The exhaustion is written on her face, but more than that there is loneliness in her eyes. I don’t know why, yet I feel the need to apologize that it’s me that came to get her.

“I’m sorry Rex couldn’t make it.”

“I’m not,” she says, gazing out the window into the dark night.

How do I respond to that? Rather than involve myself in another man’s business, I stay quiet. Her phone rings from her purse saving me from continuing our conversation.

“What, Rex?” she answers with a dull tone. There is a pause for him to speak. “Yes, Shooter came. I’m on my way home.” Her brows draw together in frustration, but her voice remains impassive. “No, you can’t come over tonight.” She sighs deeply. “Rex, I told you, no more.” Another pause. “You couldn’t come get me because you were doing who knows what to some barfly. I’m not stupid. Rex, I told you, I’m done. The fact that you want to come over tonight shows the complete lack of respect you have for me. We’re over and have been for years. Hell, we weren’t actually ever officially together, so there is nothing to be over.”

Her voice never raises, never sharpens. She is calm, cool, and detached as she continues after allowing Rex to reply. “We’re nothing more than friends. Move on, Rex. I’m going to. Goodnight.” And with that, she swipes her thumb across the screen to end the call.

She lightly bangs her head against the window as we pull up to her house where she starts to unbuckle. Quickly, I reach in my back pocket and get my business card out of my wallet.

“Look, Tessie, if you need anything, I don’t care the time, call.”

When she looks at the card then up to me, a slight smile crosses her face. “Andy ‘Shooter’ Jenkins. You look like an Andy.”

“What?”

“In all the years you’ve been coming to the bar, I’ve only know you as ‘Shooter’ and ‘Jenkins,’ never Andy. You look like an Andy.”

Sexual Awakenings: Volume One

The Walz

By

Angelica Chase

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, and incidents are the product of the autho
r’
s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales are entirely co-incidental.

Text copyright © 2014 Angelica Chase

All rights reserved.

No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or otherwise without written permission of the above author. The only exception is by a reviewer, who may quote short experts in a review.

Published by Angelica Chase, Independent Author

Cover Design by Juliana Cabrera,
Jersey Girl Graphics

Editing by Edee M. Fallon,
Mad Spark Editing

Interior Design and Formatting by Juliana Cabrera,
Jersey Girl Graphics

FALL

I lit candles all over the house in only the scents he would tolerate. I covered our topiaries with soft, clear lights, and arranged fall flowers and large cornstalks into vases around the living room and porch. I loved fall, and by the way the house now smelled and had been transformed, it showed. Grabbing my pumpkin spice latte, I sat in my reading chair on the porch, watching the leaves sway in the cool breeze. I was already cold, but refused to go inside, soaking up the last of the sun as it made its way behind the trees, basking in the feeling in the air. Everything seemed clearer, crisper, and cold days were rare in the south this early in the season. Receiving an incoming message on my tablet, I tapped it, finding nothing new. He wouldn’t be home for dinner. It was a good thing I hadn’t bothered to cook. I knew better. A year straight of eating alone will do that to a woman. I opted for another night of wine and my vibrator.

Once inside, I chose my favorite bottle of red and poured a healthy glass. Surveying my beautifully decorated home, I rolled my eyes. What was the point? Maybe he was right. The last time I had decorated for the holidays, my husband had asked that same question.

“We don’t have any children. We hardly have company. Why even bother?”

Prick. We didn’t have children because he had a vasectomy three weeks after our wedding without telling me, only for me to find out in the first of many viscous arguments that ensued. We didn’t have company because he was too occupied keeping his own, busy with his constant need to stick his dick in their throats. It wasn’t enough for my husband to have one affair; he was in the midst of two.

I was not a woman scorned. Fuck that. I was a woman who had been freed, and too lazy to leave him, having no desire to start another relationship or leave my beautiful home. Alex was never here, ever. What was the point of giving up my life for a ghost I barely lived with? I took my wedding ring off months ago. He never noticed because, in all honesty, I couldn’t remember the last conversation we had.

And then I remembered.

“You never loved me did you?” I asked as he entered the house after another late meeting.

“Sure, I love you. Why are you acting so out of sorts?” He ran his hands through his hair, a signature move on his part that I used to find sexy. A stranger to me at that point when we had originally been so close, he stared at me as if I disgusted him, and I returned it. We had been best friends before we were lovers. We’d shared everything. I didn’t even recognize the man who now took his place. There was not a damn thing wrong with me or the way I looked. All of his fucked up issues of infidelity were his own.

“I’m not an idiot. Don’t play innocent, Alex,” I snapped.

“Drink your wine, honey,” he said dryly, pushing past me.

That was our last conversation. When he was home, he called his mistresses from his office. I heard every word, because I listened. I listened to strengthen my resolve. I had already decided to ask for a divorce after Christmas. New Year, new life, I guessed. He would let me keep the house and I would let him keep most of his money. He had plenty of it, due to old money passed down from his parents, and his newfound success at his advertising firm. I supposed he thought that since I wanted for nothing, I should just accept my circumstances as a good little wife, go shopping, get pampered. The truth was, I mourned my relationship with my husband, or at least the man I knew before things fell apart. The most frustrating aspect was he refused to admit anything was wrong; the man that had proposed to me knew something was wrong with me before I did at times. He was attentive and nurturing and…human. My tears saddened him, my smiles and laughter fueled him. He’d loved me.

I shook off the small amount of pain making its way into my chest. I had no more room for self-pity. I had done it all. I had worked out, tried new hair, new clothes. I had even gone so far as to get Botox. The only conclusion I came to after a few months of being refused in the skimpiest of lingerie was FUCK HIM. FUCK HIM. I had tried to make my marriage work. He was more interested in seeing it fail. Our relationship was too far gone from what it used to be. There was no trust, and definitely no lingering love. I had spent hours crying over him, now I just wanted my freedom. And freedom was becoming more important than comfort. I had to get out of this and soon.

I sipped my wine, thinking how completely unsatisfying it all was. I had waited until the age of twenty-nine to get married. It seemed the sensible thing to do after a few months of dating Alex. I couldn’t even remember the last time we had made love or fucked. My last attempt to keep the home fires burning had failed miserably.

“We aren’t a couple of fucking horny teenagers living out a fantasy, Vi. We aren’t making a porno, and what the fuck are you wearing?”

I gave up that day, throwing every single negligee I owned away and burying any remaining hope. Sex with Alex was never exactly hot. It had been enough because I had honestly loved him.

Drinking the last of my glass, I poured myself another. Sex, now there was something I was tired of living without. I had my trusty toy. God, how I loved that thing. Battery maintenance promised endless minutes of pleasure. The thought alone had me wanting to reach for it.

I was thirty-two years old, sitting in a big, beautifully decorated house, imagining the next session with my vibrator. I heard the shatter of the wine glass before I realized I was the one who had thrown it in anger.

This is not my life! This is not who I am. This shit…this waiting, much like my marriage, was over!

Things were about to change and change today. First, I had to come up with a plan.

Sex, or lack thereof, was what set me off in the kitchen. I missed it. I wanted it. I needed it, but why? I’d never really had sex like most adults. Well, those adults who I envied, which included pretty much anyone who was having their needs met at this point. I abstained from having my own affair because, for a short time, I held out hope. Now that my mind was made up on divorce, I no longer had to justify my reasoning. Sex was a necessity for me. I had waited long enough. My body was starving for touch, my lips bankrupt from a lack of kisses. While a relationship didn’t appeal to me, at least not immediately, the thought of a good hard fuck made me insane with want. Not that I’d ever been satisfied sexually.

My experience consisted mainly of missionary, with a few sporadic moments here and there in various positions. Alex was not well endowed and had by no means made up for it throughout our years together. I wondered what it was like to be with a man with a big cock. I moaned at the thought, never once having an orgasm from a man’s dick. My girlfriend Molly told me that without a vibrator I may never have one. She insisted girls who came with men inside them were either porn stars with amazing acting skills or had been divinely gifted in that department. It was a myth to me, an orgasm from a man’s cock. I’d had fantasies for years about the possibilities of sex. All of it interested me, especially the kink. Alex would look at me as though I was insane when I suggested anything out of our norm. I would get hot and bothered reading all of my dark erotic romances and begged him to try some scenarios with me. Looking back now, I can kind of see his point on why that might seem a little strange. It just wasn’t realistic.

Do these people really exist, the people that explore the forbidden? Of course they do, but where were they? Certainly not on the outskirts of Savannah, GA. I laughed at the thought. I’d do good to find a decent looking, well hung, hardworking man in this area period, let alone one that would explore my sexuality with me. Then again, what if? I mean, surely the insatiable and erotic sexual cravings of people are not limited to only large cities.

Where in the hell would I look for something like that here?

Of course there was the web, but some, or most, of those sites had a virus attached. I’d delved into porn a little when my imagination couldn’t do it for me and I needed a little extra something. That got old as well. I was tired of watching. I wanted the experience. Pouring myself another glass of wine, I ignored the shattered glass on the floor. Who the hell would care about the mess anyway? After all, it was only me here.

Hours later, after watching Jimmy Fallon, my curiosity brought me back to the web. Fuck it; I’d been the well-behaved, jilted wife long enough. I wanted to know what was out there, especially those like me who shared the same curiosities. I would love to know if any other women in Savannah had a fascination with kink. After a few hours of searching, I stumbled upon a site advertising a local adults only page. There was a large triple X on the screen and a flashing advertisement of what looked like a bar in or around Savannah, but my excitement was stifled when I realized there was no address. After a quick Google search for the bar, named The Rabbit Hole, I came up empty, and gave up. Yawning, I threw my tablet beside my pillow and laid my head down to watch Nightline when I heard a ping.

I looked at my tablet to see an incoming message asking for the password. After careful thought, I had nothing. I typed my plea.

Hint?

Rabbit Hole.

Not helpful at all. Shit. The possibilities were endless. I studied the XXX on the screen and saw an Alice in Wonderland cartoon encased in them. Inside the rabbit hole, in the middle X, was Alice kissing another Alice on the cheek as she held her pointer finger to her lips.

Making the best guess I could, I keyed it in.

Don’t kiss and tell.

I was immediately brought to the homepage, asked to create a username
—
Blue_Alic
e
—and started navigating my way around.

It was a chat room, and from the subject matter floating in boxes around the screen, it was definitely a no holds barred kink fest. Perfect! At least the curious vixen inside me wouldn’t have to show her face for now. I sat for hours in the various chat rooms reading the conversations. Most of them consisted of people hooking up and then agreeing to email in private. Great, hours on the site and I had only gotten a little hot reading what appeared to be an open and unashamed twosome having really kinky message sex. I could read a book and get hotter than this. I was just about to grab my trusty silver bullet and a new erotica book when I got an incoming message.

MadHatter: What are you doing here?

I froze, feeling completely busted. I shook my embarrassment off quickly. I had knocked on the damn door, so far so good, why the hell not? I typed my reply.

Blue_Alice: Looking.

MadHatter: For what?

Blue_Alice: Anything but what I’m doing.

There, honesty. Honesty was good.

MadHatter: Why so blue, Alice? Bored housewife?

Blue_Alice: Fuck you.

MadHatter: So I’m assuming I’m correct?

Blue_Alice: Maybe, what the hell does it matter?

MadHatter: We don’t do married here.

Blue_Alice: I am getting a divorce.

MadHatter: That’s not a new one.

Blue_Alice: Keep your boring ass chat room.

MadHatter: Temper, temper.

Blue_Alice: I could do a better job turning people on than this bullshit.

MadHatter: Wow, you really need a thick cock in that sassy mouth.

Blue_Alice: And I suppose you’re the one who will be giving it to me?

MadHatter: Why not me?

I felt my cheeks grow hot and took a deep breath. Okay, now we are talking here.