8

Tobacco

Rampage

She’s so curious. I know she’s wondering what happened, why I showed up with blood on my hands, but she’s not asking. She doesn’t need to know that the reason I showed back up bloody and pissed was because of her. She didn’t do shit, but she’s the cause. I should be worried about what I just did, but I’m not. When it comes to her, I think irrationally. She’s got me so completely fucked, and she hasn’t got a clue. I’m seeing that there isn’t a goddamn thing I wouldn’t do for this girl, even if murder was one of those things.

Sitting in a bar earlier, talking with a few of the guys, I hear Gino and some other asshole talking about Lala. That shit pissed me right the fuck off, but it wasn’t that they were talking about her, it’s what they were saying about her. That shit would have made any brother lose his shit, hearing another dude talking about their girl that way. I saw red and lost my fuckin’ mind.

“You see the little blonde bitch last night with the Disciples?” Gino asks the other asshole.

“The one with Tank’s old lady? Fuck yeah I did. Saw that cunt from a mile away.”

I’ve no doubt he did. Every motherfucker saw her.

“Tried to get in that shit last night. She was whining ‘bout bein’ here with that crazy fuck, Rampage. She’s pretty dumb, saying she’s with him but he ain’t claiming her. Still, she wasn’t havin’ it, but I’m gettin’ that shit tonight. I’m not giving that bitch a choice.” Gino says.

This is pretty much where shit started to get real hazy and red for me. I sit there and listen, wanting to know exactly what this fuck thinks he’s gonna do. I’m waiting for him to say what I know will get him killed.

“Whatcha gonna do? Tie her ass up? Force her? Ain’t you worried ‘bout Rampage?”

Gino laughs, sounding like he doesn’t care. “If that’s what I have to do, then fuck yeah. I don’t mind ‘em fightin’ ‘n beggin’. Fuck that stupid bitch. I let her go last night, but tonight she’s givin’ me that sweet ass, whether she wants to or not.”

That was it. Shit went black and I went crazy, losing my mind and my control. I may have killed that fucking asshole, ‘cause the last thing I remember was bashing his head off the bar repeatedly, while hearing his bones crush with each slam. I left his sick fucking ass on the ground, bleeding from every hole in his face and gasping for air while he was choking on his own blood.

I should have blown his fucking head off, but Tank stopped me before I had the chance. I’ll make sure every motherfucker knows what he likes to do to women, making sure there are plenty of men ready to give him more pain than I did. I won’t be the only asshole fucking him up over his mouth.

I needed time to calm my shit down before getting back to the girls. Tank and the guys rode with me, letting me clear my head as much as I could. It wasn’t ‘til we stopped that I clued them in on my sudden beating of Gino. My brothers were ready to go back and finish the job I started, but after calming my shit down, all I wanted to do was see Lala. That shit at the bar showed me what I knew. This shit I was feeling for her was gettin’ real.

              When we made it back to the girls, all I wanted to do was get to her, and when I saw that perfect fucking smile of hers that was just for me, it showed me what I needed to see. This feeling wasn’t just one sided. She felt something, too.

Once inside the cabin, I needed to see her as mine in some way, so I gave her my shirt to wear to bed. I love seeing that amazing body inside of my shirts. I take a shower to clean off the blood and to help soothe my nerves. She doesn’t need to see me like this, especially after the look in her eyes when she saw the blood on my hands. Not gonna talk to her about what went down. She doesn’t need to know what some sick fuck had planned to do to her. She doesn’t need to know that a man almost died by my hands today because of her.

Walking out of the bathroom, there she is, in my t-shirt, staring me down. After checking me out, I see her eyes go to my scars. She asks the questions, so I give her the answers, especially if I don’t have to talk about what went down today. I’ll answer any question she has, except that.

After I give her the answers she wants about my scars, I say, “Good. Get the fuck into bed, baby.” All I wanna do is get in bed and wrap myself up in this girl. I want to fuck her. I want to fuck her so bad my shit aches, but right now, tonight, I just want to hold her in my arms. Grabbing my hand, she pulls me toward the bed. She starts to crawl in backwards, pulling me in with her. We lay down and she curls up around me, throwing an arm over my chest. This is all I want. Fuck everything else.

              I stay awake ‘til I know that she’s fallen asleep. I don’t know what this shit is I’m feeling. I don’t love her, but I want her. I need her. I need this. It’s easy; no expectations, no jealousy, no fighting, just two people feeling the same thing and makin’ a go of it. I can fuck any bitch, but I’m never gonna get this from anyone else. Fuck, I don’t want it from anyone else. I just want this shit from Lala.

 

****

              A line of pussy ass crotch rockets zip down the road in front of us. The lawnmower whine of their engines grates on my nerves. Dammit! I need another case of beer I think as I roll my neck around, trying to relieve the headache I’m getting. Lala wanted a rally, so I’m giving her a rally. Some stupid fucks in colorfully advertised jumpsuits race and ride tricks on the street. Why someone would pay to perform in this is stupid, but why someone would pay to watch this shit is totally beyond me. Sis says it’s for a good cause, which I get and it’s cool, but I’d rather just throw money at the cause than have to watch this shit.

“They’re good,” Lala says as she leans back against my stomach and tilts her head up at me. Sitting in between my legs on a picnic table, she adds, ‘their motorcycles are kind of cool.” I damn near choke on a drink of beer. I’m going to fix that fucking shit real goddamn quick. Stitch and Tags snicker as she associates the word cool with those lawnmowers on two wheels.

“Not a motorcycle, babe.” She’s gonna learn this shit real quick. No bitch sitting on my bike is gonna call those things motorcycles. Looks like it’s time for some more biker education.

“They’re not?”

“Fuck no.”

“I don’t get it? It’s a bike, right?”

“No.”

“Fill me in. What’s yours called then?” She asks, getting a little bit of an attitude. Where to begin?

“Harley, motorcycle, bike, whatever. That’s what you call mine, baby. Those little foreign pieces of shit there aren’t motorcycles. They’re cheap knockoffs. Cheaply made lawnmowers on two tires.” I get an ‘amen’ from Stitch and Tags.

“Oh,” is all she says to that.

“American made, all the way.”

“Gotcha. So those,” she says waving her hands at the lawnmowers, “are not bikes, but yours are. Those are just pieces of junk, and yours are not. I will admit, yours is much sexier.”

“Goddamn right it is, Lala.”

****

              Sitting at a table in the back of the bar, I watch the entrance. I’m waiting for Lala to bring her ass in here. We left their asses back at the cabins, doin’ their hair and all that other girly shit that girls do. We all started drinkin’ early and we’re all pretty drunk. I left Tags and Gin with them to make sure they get here in one piece.

Today I took Lala to the rally, to the races and the show. I caught up with a shitload of motherfuckers from my past. We spent the whole goddamn day doing the whole charity rally thing. It was exhausting, and now I just wanna kick back and have some more drinks and relax.

The bar is packed tonight. All the guys are here, along with brothers from other chapters of the club. It’s good to be around family. I watch Lala walk into the bar a little while later, along with every other asshole here. Baby is trying to kill me, that’s for damn sure.

She’s wearing those tore up jean shorts and a loose tank top. I can see the black lace bra underneath from the top and the sides of her goddamn shirt. Her long, sexy hair is down, just like I like it. Her eyes scan the bar, and once her eyes settle on me, she makes her way straight to me, and I like that shit.

“Fuck. Took you long enough.”

“Relax,” she whispers, “I was trying to get pretty for you.”

If she only fucking knew how goddamn beautiful she is, hair and makeup shit be damned.  I order her a drink. While we wait, she scoots close, getting comfortable next to me. Now that she’s here, I can finally fucking relax.

              “Oh my god! You spilled it down your shirt,” Lala giggles at Lil. The girls are getting shitfaced, and Lala is smiling from ear to ear. The more she drinks, the closer she gets, tangling her arm around mine.

“Let me lick it off,” Cali and Peaches squeal at the same time as Lil shoves her tits in their direction. These bitches are drunk and crazy, but whatever. They’re happy.

“Let’s dance,” Lala yells to the girls. Bad fucking idea, but off they go, right to the dance floor. I’m just not feeling like being a dick tonight, so I watch them go off to the dance floor. Lala starts to grind her ass into Cali, her body moving slow and sexy. Cali’s hands are wandering all over Lala’s body, and it’s the sexiest fucking thing I’ve ever seen.

“How the fuck you get so goddamn lucky?” King asks me as his eyes roam Lala’s body. “What the fuck ya mean?”

“How the fuck you get a bitch like Lala? You’re mean as hell, don’t talk much, ‘n always look like you’re pissed off. Not to mention, you’re ugly as fuck. If I was a bitch, I’d be scared as fuck of you.”

“Shut up, asshole.” King laughs and throws back his shot.

“Just sayin’, man.”

“Seriously. You fuck that girl yet? Look at her out there. If she fucks anything like she dances, then goddamn! You’re in for some amazing fucking,” Kash adds.

For the next twenty fucking minutes, I have to listen to every asshole at our table talk about her body and the shit she could do with it. I get descriptions on how each and every one of them would fuck her if they were me. I know they are egging me on, fucking with me for fun, but they have no idea that I spend damn near every waking minute thinking about her body ever since I laid eyes on her. Christ, I’ve seen it. I’ve touched it. I want it. I want to do terrible and amazing shit to her body.

Fuck this shit. I’m done.

I walk out to the dance floor and grab her hand, dragging her along behind me. I’ve had enough of this shit. I’m done fucking around.

“What are you doing?” She asks, sounding a little scared. Maybe she should be scared, ‘cause I’m gonna fuck her until she begs me to stop.

“Shut up.”

Kicking the bathroom door open, I tell each and every bitch in here to get the fuck out. Once the last bitch has cleared out, Lala looks at me like I’ve lost my shit. That shit changes real quick when I back her ass against the wall.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

“Take your shirt off, Lala.” Her eyes widen, but she does what I tell her to do. She keeps eye contact with me while she slowly pulls that tank top up over her head. I watch as she drags it over her sexy as sin body. She’s still bruised, but I just can’t make myself give a fuck right now. Once I see that shirt gone, and her round tits inside that black lacey bra, my hands start to shake. This is what she does to me. I can’t control it.

              “You want to fuck me in a dirty bathroom? In a bar?” She asks.

“Fuck yeah. I wanna fuck you anywhere and everywhere I can.”

She pushes on my chest, “back the fuck up, then.”

              I step back and she does something I was not expecting. She undoes her shorts and wiggles them down those thighs, letting them drop to her feet. She’s standing there in front of me in nothing but that goddamn black lace bra and panties. Perfect.

She grabs my shirt roughly, pulling my body against hers. I fucking love it. Wrapping a hand up in that hair, I tug her head back hard, “You want it mean, Lala? Do you want it hard and rough?”

My girl smirks at me. I’m the luckiest fucking man on this earth. My baby wants it rough.