Chapter 2

Greer

When I was little, I thought my life was perfect. I had a mom and dad who were attentive even though they lived separate lives. There was so much affection. I always knew I was adored. Then it all ended when my dad chose a different path, a path that didn’t involve me.

I remember my dad visiting here and there. One day, he arrived with a baby. My dad introduced him as my brother, Tanner Nathaniel.

I won’t lie and say I wasn’t jealous of that baby, because I was. It was an indescribable feeling. He had everything that I once had and would never have back.

As the years went by, Nate and I bonded. I didn’t despise him as much as I once did. I grew very fond of the little boy who would follow me around and listen to me like every word I said was kissed with gold.

When I was thirteen, my mother met a man, a man who put up a disguise. Dimitri wasn’t always nice. He was manipulative. My mother fell hook-line-and-sinker for his soft words and promises. She became entranced with him.

Before I knew it, we were living in Nevada. In Nevada, my mother changed. She barely looked at me and when she did, her eyes were empty.

I tried to hide from my new life, but Dimitri made it harder and harder for me to disappear by constantly parading me around men old enough to be my father and sometimes my grandfather. It was like I was a show pony and I wouldn’t completely understand the endgame until a few months later.

Six months ago, I ran from the life Dimitri had created for me in Nevada, back to the man that didn’t disappear from my life. Uncle Brute has been apart of my life since I was born. My father and he were best friends, but that ended to.

It always seemed that my dad changed his affections overnight. One minute, he loved his daughter. The next, he was gone. One minute, he had a best friend. The next, he didn’t care about him either.

Brute found me in Nevada six years ago drinking at a hole-in-the-wall bar. He gave me his number and told me to call if I ever needed him. I called sporadically checking in, but I didn’t fill him in on how shitty my life in Nevada was.

Then six months ago, I ran from Nevada and the man who was making my life a living hell. I knew then that if I didn’t get from underneath Dimitri, I would end up lost like my mother or dead for disobeying.

I called Brute and he had his VP, Red and his Road Captain, Banshee pick me up outside of Virginia City. Red is a big, burly man with none other than red hair and a nice-sized beer belly. Banshee, on the other hand, is around my age of twenty-eight and nothing but muscles and tats. He’s tall at around six-foot-six and as broad as he is tall, dark brown hair and emerald green eyes.

I arrived at the Rioting Devils MC in Blairsville, Georgia. I came with only the clothes on my back and the flip flops on my feet. I was destitute. Hitting rock bottom didn’t even scratch the surface for me because I’d been at rock bottom most of my existence. If someone wasn’t telling me what to do, they were using me to get what they wanted, especially Dimitri.

The Rioting Devils MC clubhouse is nothing like the Southern Chaotic’s. Yes, it’s surrounded by metal fencing, but it’s a refurbished warehouse and massive.

Brute put me up in one of the rooms upstairs and away from the brothers. Brute’s wife, Mitz, has taken on the role as mother. At first, I hated it, but as time went on, I’ve grown to enjoy my time with Mitz.

Mitz was unable to have kids, so showing up in the condition I was in could’ve caused a lot of controversy. But Mitz being who she is, welcomed me and helped me endure my struggles.

Each and every brother stepped up to make me feel safe and protected.

After I healed from my dilemma, I started working at Draft’s, a bar that the club owns. It was hit or miss the first couple of weeks. I’d never had a job, so slinging drinks was an accomplishment.

With each month that past, I livened up. I became sure of myself again. I opened up to Banshee and Poison about all that had transpired in my life. Together, they helped me to realize my worth. They helped me regain the self-esteem I’d lost.

If it hadn’t been for the Rioting Devils, I’m not sure I would have had much of a life, at least not one that was my own.

I haven’t gotten up the courage to live outside of the clubhouse yet, but showing my face at the Southern Chaotic’s clubhouse was momentous. The drinks helped to calm my nerves, but living with bikers assisted in not being intimidated by the Chaotic’s.

It’s been a few weeks since I high-tailed it away from the Chaotic’s. It took me a few days to come out of the depression I had succumbed to by not being accepted by my brother.

My ways of dealing are a lot different than most people. When I’m down, pain’s the only way to come out of my glum. After the first day of blankly staring off into space, Poison pulled me aside letting me know that whatever I needed he would give it to me.

I didn’t take him up on his offer until day four when I hadn’t been able to sleep. I just needed the release, the mental space of escape to revive me.

Poison is a handsome caramel-colored man with every ounce of him bulging to the max. His appearance is threatening for most and I’m sure that’s why he’s the Devils’ Sergent at Arms.

He’s never pushed and always followed what I asked for. That day in particular, I needed the sting of a belt.

“Gee, tell me how hard you want it.” Poison demands.

“I need it hard enough to feel for a few days. I need the reminder.”

“Strip, bend over the bed and spread your legs.” He commands. Following his directions and doing as he commands, I strip naked, bend over and spread’um. “If you’ve had enough, what do you want to be your safe word?”

“Beeswax.” I respond.

“Beeswax.” He repeats.

The cracks of the belt against my ass send an invigorating twinge that sends tingles up my spine. On hit twenty, I’m panting and can feel the wetness between my thighs.

Poison drops the belt to the floor with a clank and I hear the tearing of the condom wrapper. He pulls me by my ponytail hard making my back arch and then he’s thrusting inside me. Every bump of his hips against my burning cheeks sends another wave of excitement to my pussy. No words are spoken, just the occasional moan, grunt or groan.

When we both are spent and have released the tension, we collapse on the bed. He knows I don’t need to be cuddled or have sweet words spoken.

After the hell I’ve lived through with Dimitri, I’m not fond of being touched. Most women can be touched by a man intimately and instantly melt, not me. Being violated as much as I have over the years, I’ve been desensitized. Pain’s the only way to achieve an orgasm.

If it hadn’t been for Poison and Banshee coming to that conclusion, I’d have never had sex again. Past partners were more concerned with their own release than mine, so why bother. My experience with sex and the aftermath have never been pleasurable memories.

With the help of those two, I learned how to manage my triggers and emotions. When something prompts an unpleasant event that occurred in my life, I find Poison or Banshee and with one look they know what I need and indulge me.

I’ve learned to compartmentalize a lot of emotion during my time with Dimitri. Like lying on my back with a grunting, runting fifty-something on top of me at fifteen and mentally not being present. The man definitely didn’t care that he was fucking the resemblance of a corpse.

Hate and anger were always at the forefront, but love, happiness and desire were buried deep. Those emotions never surfaced until I came here.