Ember
Later that day, Wheeler woke and headed out to find a wig and some clothes that he could bring back for me. I teased him about how a big man like him was going to go out into the world and pick out a wig. He told me that he might go and buy one up himself.
I waited out at the clubhouse. Wheeler had some books on a bookshelf in his room. I took one and sat out on the porch, reading. I was left mostly alone—I was told hello, and Smith was in and out of the clubhouse (apparently doing repairs), and he would poke at me for interactions when he did so, but I was otherwise left alone, and that suited me fine; the bikers here had a higher respect for me and my space, and it was a comfort.
When Wheeler came back, he had a few bags with him. One held a box with a brand-new black wig.
“I thought it would suit you,” he said. It was a full, curly thing and I had never worn a wig, nor had I ever dyed my hair, but I was interested in seeing how different I would look with the wig on. In the other bags were clothes—basics. T-shirts, shorts, things that would tide me over until I went out shopping for myself. There was also a toothbrush, toothpaste, and other necessities. I gave him a hug and thanked him.
“You’re a lifesaver.”
“Don’t mention it.”
From there, I got acquainted with my new wig. It definitely gave me a new look, making my skin look paler, but it was somehow a good look—and it made my freckles more prominent. I was also happy to slide into some shorts and a shirt that gave me a little bit of coverage, though Wheeler did comment jokingly that he would miss the cleavage.
On top of clothes and a wig so that I was less recognizable to the public, Wheeler had gotten me a prepaid card and a prepaid phone.
“It’s not as fancy as a smart phone and it’s not as snazzy as a credit card, but they’ll do for now. I also loaded up some money on here for you already so you can get what you want and like. I don’t know. If you’re here and no one else is and you want to order a pizza you can, I suppose.”
Of all the things.
The first few days were used to get acclimated to the clubhouse, as well as wait for Boss’ ‘contact’ to swing by so we could set up things for me to have a fake ID card. I got my picture taken (in my wig) and was told it’d be a couple of days before it was all set.
No barhopping for me until then, but it was a start.
Wheeler
“I understand.”
“Then you’ll understand that he’s not very happy that you decided to go off on your own doing … what exactly? Trying to make nice with Boss?”
“I thought that Boss would help because Satan is his brother, and one of the few people that knows Satan enough to know how to handle him and this situation with the heat breathing down your necks.”
I had Leech on the phone. I’d bitten the bullet after getting Ember set up (dodging a hell of a lot of texts and calls that I knew I was gonna get shit for, but it was for a worthy cause, after all) and called the bastard back. He was eating it up that Ember and I had been pointed out to the police, and ate it up more that I had left without an answer.
He was gleefully delighted that I was with Boss. He knew it would piss off Satan.
“I’m sure you did it for us,” he said sarcastically. “Did Boss even agree?”
“No, he didn’t. He said that he’s not getting mixed up in what’s going on with the Big Sur Satan’s Sons.”
“Yet you’re staying there.” He was trying to coax some sort of incrimination or confession out of me.
“I’m staying here while I get in contact with other chapters and friends here to send them down as back up. Isn’t that what Satan wanted?”
“He wanted me and you to be the ones getting it done. Me and you.”
I rolled my eyes.
“And how many chapters have you gotten to agree to help?”
“None of your goddamn business, you fucking flake—”
“That’s all the answer that I need.” I took a drag from the cigarette that I held in my hand. It was burning its way down on its own, and I didn’t want to waste it. Besides, dealing with Leech was enough to drive a man to eat a pack of cigarettes, let alone smoke it.
“I’ve got the Rough Riders and Marco’s boys headed your way this week. They should be enough for now. I’m gonna round up some more and drive back with whoever is willing to lend a hand.”
“You’re sure taking your sweet ass time about it,” Leech said. “You planning something, Wheeler?”
I rolled my eyes.
“I’m doing what Satan wanted me to do.”
“Yeah, well, he’s not too happy about how you’re going about doing it. Thinks you not telling him was a sign of dissention.”
That made me stiffen.
Satan would know better.
“I’m loyal to Satan,” I said. “So if you’ve put it in his head—”
“I don’t have to put anything in his head when you’re the one that’s done the deed,” he said. “You just watch yourself, Wheeler. Keep in mind who is here and who ain’t.”
He hung up the line.
Sniveling, conniving little bastard …
But his words didn’t sit well with me. Keep in mind who is here and who ain’t. I didn’t like the sound of that. Was he spinning me being gone a certain way? I’d known coming to Boss would be risky—what was Leech telling Satan?
It wasn’t anything that I could act on at the moment anyway. I had other things to worry about. Keeping an eye on the news. Keeping an eye on Ember. Getting other chapters together. Seeing if there were still any friends of Satan willing to get themselves into a tangle for the man.
One thing I didn’t have to worry about, at least, was how Ember was going to fare. Boss would let her stay indefinitely. That was something that I could count on and didn’t have to question.
Tiny miracles.
Ember
We sat in Wheeler’s room, on his bed, with a box of pizza I had ordered between us. We munched on it, and had some cheesy, terrible horror movie played on the television screen. I didn’t mind, though. This was the most fun that I had had in ages, and Wheeler was good company, making all sorts of funny commentary to go with it.
“That blood is so fake-looking.”
“Well, not everyone can afford the fancy corn syrup stuff, Wheeler.”
“And this chick’s screams are totally fake.”
“She is acting.”
“Yeah, but it should at least be believable.”
I laughed and took a swig from the bottle of Coke that I had bought to go along with our pizza. It was nice to have something to fall back onto to relax with everything going on. Wheeler had been getting in contact with other chapters of the Sons that neighbored San Diego. Apparently, he had managed to round up two or three that were willing to go as back up to the Big Sur clubhouse. Wheeler had sent them ahead, had some that were waiting for when Wheeler was ready to head back to Big Sur to confront the situation head on.
He didn’t talk about it a lot, but the chapters that he had sent ahead at least did a little to halt the full-force retaliation that the police department had intended on launching against the Satan’s Sons. It bought time—but I wasn’t sure what kind of time or for whom it was being bought. Eventually we’d have to find a way to clear my name, but that was up in the air. It would boil down to Jameson coming clean, and there was about as much faith in that happening as, well, the sky falling to the ground.
I pushed those thoughts away though. Instead I focused on Wheeler and how he folded up a massive slice of pizza like a taco, munching on it in just a few bites.
“You’re like a garbage disposal, you know that, right?” I shook my head and got down and dirty on my own piece—I had no room to talk.
Wheeler was quick to point this out to me.
“You’re just as bad. It’s even worse because you’re a woman. Aren’t you supposed to be dainty and prim and proper?”
I gave him the middle finger and proceeded to shove the rest of my pizza in my mouth.
“Prim and proper, my ass,” I said when I finally swallowed down the massive amount that I’d consumed. “I do what I want. You do too.”
Wheeler laughed. There was no more pizza, and he slid the box out of the way, crawling over to me on the bed. He got into my space, pushing his face against mine to nuzzle.
“What if I wanted to do you?”
I grinned.
“Then I guess you could do that. If it’s what you want.”
He laughed and tugged me so I was under him. Sex was becoming a favorite pastime of mine, and with Wheeler being the man giving it to me, I didn’t have any real objections to that fact. I was eager, and we’d fucked every night since coming to San Diego. It was thrilling.
He kissed me, hot, and heavy. My lips parted and I breathed against him, tugging at his clothing. It was quick to come off, and I was quick to get my hand around his cock, pumping him. I had come to really like the way he felt in my hand. He was heavy and thick, and he pulsed with every stroke that I gave him. He bucked into my hand and I squeezed him hard.
“Fuck, you’re gonna get me addicted to your hands,” he said.
I chuckled.
“Shame it’s just my hands you’re going to get addicted to.”
“All of you. Hands. Lips. This.”
I arched as he slid his fingers into me, plunging at least two in in one go. His fingers were filling and hit the mark as he strummed and stroked inside me in time with the way I stroked his cock.
“Just like that, Ember.” His jaw clenched as he continued to work me open. Eventually, I got impatient. I wanted him in me, and I wanted him in me now. I didn’t need him to pad and paw around me.
I slapped his hand away and guided his cock toward me. I watched his face as I did the initiating of rocking my hips down on him, taking him in me. I bit my lip through a grin, seeing his eyes roll as my tightness and wetness surrounded him. I wrapped my legs around him and bucked my hips up, urging him to move.
“Come on, I thought you wanted to do me,” I teased him. I ran my nails down his back and Wheeler bucked up against me. He took my hands in his and pinned them roughly down to the bed. I gasped when he hit deep—he talked about getting addicted, but he had a cock that could make me weep just to have it inside. I moaned when he reached deeper and deeper on every thrust.
“Doing it enough for you?” he taunted between my moans.
“Fuck you. Could be harder.”
He drilled into me, rising to my challenge, and I let him have me harder, faster, until he was knocking the bed against the wall with the force of his thrusts. It was a good thing that he didn’t have anyone in the room across from him. It would have kept someone up late.
Not that I really cared. I was busy being kept up late myself.
I rolled my hips against every thrust until it was impossible to keep up. Wheeler was like a freight train and he just didn’t stop, didn’t let up; there was nothing that slowed him ramming into me. I tossed my head back, moaning as my walls tightened around him and I clung to him.
“Don’t stop, fuck.”
He didn’t.
Again and again.
He drew out an orgasm from me.
Then another.
After the second, I was still rolling high, and he was still hard. The stuttered staccato movement of his thrusts told me he was close.
I tightened around him intentionally. I fluttered and flowed around him. I was so sensitive. My pussy ached and my clit throbbed, but it ground onto him hard, wanting to make Wheeler cum and milk him for what he was worth.
“Come on, come on,” I urged. I buried my face into his neck, nibbling and biting on him to get him to keep going.
He gripped my wrists and pinned me harder as he fucked me harder too. Harder, harder, until he snapped into me and I felt my insides coated hot and sticky with his cum. He pumped himself in and out of me, working his hips and cock until he couldn’t anymore.
Wheeler collapsed beside me, a panting mess in the wake of our release—in my case, multiple. I was getting a little used to it if I did say so myself.
I threw my arm over Wheeler’s chest and snuggled into it. He was so big and muscular. I loved that he let me do this. So many men were afraid of any show of intimacy after, but Wheeler wrapped his arm around me and kept me close. His nose buried itself into my hair.
“Hm, you’re going to make it hard to get up and out of bed in the morning,” he said. His voice was already thick with sleepiness and grogginess that I thought was endearing. I laughed at him.
“Says the person that just laid into me like a freight train. I doubt that I’m going to be getting much done tomorrow myself.”
“At least you don’t have to get on and ride a motorcycle.”
I smirked. No … I didn’t. I doubt that I would decide to bite the bullet and do so anyway even if I had to get up and go anywhere tomorrow.
I could get used to this.
Used to us.
Man, what on earth had I gotten myself into?