Jax's Dilemma:Insurgents Motorcycle Club (Insurgents MC Romance Book 2) (11 page)

“I threw it against a door.”

“Yeah, that’ll do it. What’s up?”

“Fuckin’ bitches. They’re a pain in the ass. I’m going back to fucking multiple pussies without any faces.”

“Problem is once one of them gets into your system, you’re fuckin’ screwed—you don’t want anyone else but her. That’s how it was for me with Cara.”

“Yeah, but Cara wanted you, too.”

“It was a struggle, but the best ones always are. You’ll figure it out.”

“You like challenges, but I like easy pussy.”

“If your cock is aimed at that stripper, then easy is not what you’re gonna get.” Hawk laughed, downed his beer, and turned to leave. “And yeah, get a new phone. Club business requires you have one at all times.”

Jax grunted as he played the events over in his mind. What the fuck was Cherri doing at Dream House anyway? Wasn’t it supposed to be her day off? He knew it looked bad when she came into the room, but she wouldn’t fucking let him explain. He wasn’t doing shit with Peaches. He had got to the club, worried Peaches was going to hurt herself, and when he went into her dressing room and saw her in her stripper outfit, sitting on the couch, she didn’t look all that upset to him. After they talked for a bit and he realized she had exaggerated so he’d come to the club, he started to get up to leave when Peaches pushed him back and started pushing her tits in his face and rubbing her barely covered pussy over his dick.

He tried shoving her away, but she kept moving all around him, and his dick got harder. He was peeling her off him when Cherri opened the door and got a full view of a half-naked Peaches and his hard-on. He didn’t blame her for being pissed. She probably thought he used her. And, of course, he had a hard-on—he was a man, and any soft ass grinding against his cock would wake it up. But it didn’t mean he wanted Peaches or was going to fuck her. Since he’d tasted Cherri, he craved only her. He had to make things right with her. He just
had
to.

*     *     *

Slivers of moonlight
pierce through the shutter slats. Quiet stillness lends an eeriness to the night. Several high howls and low barks from the neighborhood punctuate the blackness.

It is a hot, thick night. The oscillating fan in the corner of the bedroom blows streams of hot air in Cherri’s face. She hears the floorboards creak outside her door. Her heart beats faster, her chest heaving, and she fears it will burst out of her. Silence. She knows he’s out there, can almost hear his short breaths. Dampness forms under her breasts and upper lip. She pulls the sheet up above her chin, encasing it around her like a cocoon. Under the sheet, the oppressive heat surrounds her.

The doorknob clicks and turns slowly. She holds her breath, waiting—waiting for the door to open and the man to enter.
Click.
It opens, a shadowy figure looming in the doorway. He comes closer. Cherri, covering her head with her sheet, hopes it’ll make her invisible. The mattress depresses as he sits down next to her. She hears him panting, his excitement palpable. She shivers despite the temperature. His chuckles come from deep within his chest, and his drumming fingers against the mattress sound like a metronome. She wants to scream. He’s playing with her.

He tugs the sheet away from her grip, sliding it out of her clammy hands. She opens her eyes and sees his lust-filled ones shining as they fix on her ripe, young breasts. He leans toward her, and his mouth silences her small, “No.” Kneading her breasts with his hand, he pushes her down on her back as he lifts up her cotton nightshirt. She whimpers. He presses his lips against her mouth as his hand rubs her hips.

“No,” she snivels.

“Shh, honey. I’m not gonna hurt you. Daddies never hurt their special girls.” His mouth starts its descent toward her breasts. Something hard, like a wrench, rubs against her private parts.

No… no…

Cherri woke up gasping for air, sweat pouring down her neck and under her arms. She rubbed her forehead, trying to dispel the ghosts of her past. Getting up, she put a cold washcloth against her hot face, the coolness giving her some relief. She looked at her phone; it read seven-thirty in the evening and twenty-five missed calls—all of them from Jax.

“Are you okay, Cherri?” her roommate, Ginger, asked as she softly knocked on the door. Cherri sat mutely on her bed, looking at the door.

“Cherri?” Ginger’s voice was louder that time as she came into the room, gazing at Cherri. “I heard you yelling; is anything wrong?”

Sighing, Cherri shook her head. “No. Just a bad dream, that’s all.”

“Must’ve been some dream. You were screaming.”

Cherri shrugged. “Sorry.”

“You sure you’re okay? You look real sad.”

“All men are assholes.”

Ginger laughed. “You just figuring this out now? Don’t be sad over that, ’cause it ain’t gonna change them. I’ve known men are assholes for a long time, but they fuck good and they can be a helluva lot of fun.” Ginger brushed her curly auburn bangs to the side.

Cherri sat and watched Ginger. A few minutes of awkward silence passed. Ginger, backing out of the room, said, “I gotta get going. I got another shift at the strip club. Just wanted to make sure you were all right.”

“Thanks,” Cherri called out after her.

Standing up, Cherri went over to the picture-sized window and looked out. Cars drove by, people walked around, and children played in the street. She wondered what each of their lives was like—were they happy, lonely, or in love. Her mind drifted to Jax and their lovemaking earlier that afternoon. She was so happy, but then he had to go and spoil it all. Anger emanated from her when she thought about the way he used her for fucking then ran back to Peaches for loving. He was the worst asshole she had ever met. At least with the other jerks in her life, she had known what the score was, but with Jax, he hid what a fucker he really was. He had hurt her. She thought she was immune to a man hurting her, but she let her guard down, let this one sneak into her life and heart.

Her phone pinged. She picked it up and saw it was a text message from Gunner:

Gunner:
How are you? I’m at the club but don’t see you. Are you here?

Cherri:
It’s my day off. You missing me? :)

Gunner:
Always.

Cherri:
I’ll be there tomorrow.

Gunner:
You doing anything now?

Cherri:
Not really.

Gunner:
Want to get some barbecue with me?

Cherri read the text a couple of times. Gunner was a nice guy, and she knew he wanted something with her. He was generous, and she knew there wouldn’t be any chance of her falling in love with him. Plus, Jax was history, and she was done with him. Gunner could give her the money she needed to leave Pinewood Springs and start a new life. Gunner wouldn’t be a bad sugar daddy.

Gunner:
You there?

Cherri:
Yeah, sorry, doing something at the same time. Dinner sounds good.

Gunner:
I’ll pick you up in thirty minutes?

Cherri:
Yeah.

Gunner:
Ok. Don’t need to give me your address. Know where u live. See you soon.

Cherri:
:))

She stared at the phone, a calm caressing her. If Jax could grope Peaches, she could cozy up to Gunner. She might even go to a clubhouse party and hang all over him. She’d show Jax two could play at his game. A sneer broke out over her face as her heart turned to ice.

T
here was an
excited tremor in the air at the Insurgents’ clubhouse. It was Saturday night, and that meant it was party time. Parties at the clubhouse were always wild. Since several chapters were coming that night to party, the members told Emma and Cherri they needed several dancers to entertain the men, along with a few who wanted to dance and fuck afterwards.

The only drug the Insurgents tolerated at their compound was weed, but at big parties, crank and crystal flowed. The basement of the clubhouse had many rooms that could accommodate the various brothers if they passed out or wanted to crash. The old ladies had been cooking since the morning to prepare the food for the party; platters of ribs, beef brisket, and hot sausage links, along with mountains of mashed potatoes, corn, and coleslaw, would soon be laid out on the long wooden tables in the great room. It was too cold to put them outside—spring in Colorado was a mixture of pleasant days and frigid nights.

The old ladies, after setting up the food, would leave. Sometimes, they would go over to each other’s houses and drink. They rarely went to the weekend parties; the family parties that usually happened on Sundays were cool, but most of the old ladies hated the weekend ones because of all the sluts who spread their legs for the brothers.

There was a definite hierarchy among the Insurgent women, and the old ladies were at the top and garnered the full respect from the other women and the brothers. The lowest rungs were the club whores and mamas—they were nothing more than public holes to satiate the brothers and their guests at any time. The hoodrats were the weekend sluts who came to party, drink, and fuck. They may come to one party or to many parties, but they came and went as they pleased. Before they entered, they were patted down, checked out via an elaborate ID system Hawk had set up, and photographed. The Insurgents didn’t need any undercover badge or any infiltrator from a rival club on their property.

The women, who lined up outside the chain-link fence for hours before entering the hallowed doors of the clubhouse, dressed in tight-fitting, barely there outfits. To a passerby, it would seem like the women were planning to audition for a porn movie. Overdone makeup and heels made for sitting rather than walking adorned most of the women. It amazed many of the bikers that so many women would spread their legs for them each and every weekend, just to have biker sex, but there was never a shortage of women.

Cherri and Emma hurriedly put the last trunk in the van. The dancers would change into their outfits at the clubhouse, since some of them were elaborate and ran the risk of tearing a strap or losing a few buttons if they were worn before the show as the dancers mingled with the brothers. Cherri had agreed to be Gunner’s date at the party. The big, mean-looking guy had turned out to be a sweet teddy bear, and he treated her like a goddess.

“Jax is gonna be there tonight. He always is on Saturdays,” Emma said as she steered the van toward the clubhouse, which was about twenty-five miles outside of Pinewood Springs.

“So? I don’t give a shit what he does.”

“I’m just sayin’. We don’t want a repeat of what happened between Gunner and Jax at Dream House a few weeks back. It’s not smart to play one brother off the other.”

“I’m not doing that at all. I’m finished with Jax. I was never really with him, anyway. Gunner and I have been hangin’ out for the last couple of weeks. He’s a sweetie to me, and I’m with him. I’m not playing games here.” Cherri turned her head and watched the trees and wildflowers rush by as Emma took the curves at a higher speed than Cherri would have if she were driving.

“Okay, but I didn’t realize you and Gunner were going out. He’s a quiet guy, but he’s solid—no bullshit or game-playing with him.”

Smiling, Cherri said, “I do like him. I like him a lot. I’ve never had someone so nice to me. He cares for me.”

“If Gunner cares about you, he’ll give you the world. If someone crosses him, he’ll give them a knife to the throat. Just be careful.”

Gunner did care about Cherri, and he proved it in the way he treated her: buying her anything she wanted, helping her pay her bills, holding her while she slept, and not pressuring her for sex when she told him she wasn’t ready. Oh, sure, they kissed and touched each other, and she gave him blowjobs, which he seemed to love, but she didn’t want him inside her. She couldn’t figure it out, but she just didn’t want it. Sometimes, it was like if she did let him put his dick inside her, she’d be cheating on Jax. Ludicrous thinking on her part, but that was the way she felt.
Go figure.
She was glad Gunner had been so patient, but she couldn’t tell him the truth—it would hurt him too much, and the last thing she wanted to do was hurt him.

Turning into the parking lot, Emma tooted the horn. Roach, the newest prospect, waved and opened the electric gate. Cherri saw Gunner standing by his Harley, arms crossed, nodding at her as Emma pulled into a space.

“Hey,” Cherri said as she ran up to him and kissed him on his cheek. He pulled her into his massive arms and kissed her hard on the lips.

“Hey, woman,” he said. “You look fuckin’ hot.” His eyes roamed over her body, taking in her micro mini-skirt, her cropped, lavender crochet top with a lacy black bra underneath, and her thigh-high, black leather boots.

She giggled as his beard tickled her face. Looking over her shoulder, she asked Emma, “Do you want me to help with the boxes?”